The Night of the Comanche Moon
by Andamogirl
Summary: Episode-tag. This story takes place directly after the end of "TNOT Steel Assassin". James West and Artemus Gordon are searching for missing trains that have mysteriously vanished at the border with Mexico.
1. Teaser

**THE NIGHT OF THE COMANCHE MOON**

 **By Andamogirl**

Author's note: season 1.

"The Night of the Steel Assassin" episode Tag.

Reference to the following episodes: "The Night of the Terror Stalked The Town", "The Night of the Howling Light" and "The Night of the Steel Assassin".

Trivia: Ross Martin and John Denher (Torres) played together in the _Gunsmoke_ episode "Bottleman', season 3 episode 28. In "The Night of the Steel Assassin" when Nina Gilbert is throwing items at Jim and Artemus, Ross Martin accidentally gets hit in the face with a book.

Comanche traditionally raided for horses, captives, and weapons during full moon when they could see to ride at night.

In chronological order (based on the TV series episodes order), story coming before my story called "TNOT Deadly Opera." But it can be read as a stand-alone.

Warning: graphic depiction of violence and a bit of torture, not much blood though.

Many thanks to my beta reader Old Toad.

WWW

TEASER

 _The Wanderer_

 _El Paso railroad yard_

Miss Nina Gilbert – back to her old self, i.e. sure of herself, cold, authoritarian and not nice - was gone by the first outbound train to San Francisco.

Before that she had changed her clothes, of course. Artemus Gordon had offered her to take anything she wanted from the big wardrobe in his sleeping compartment where he kept his various costumes.

She had been very surprised by the offer but had made no comment – far too happy to get rid of his showgirl outfit - and she had left the Wanderer wearing lingerie pants, a corset, a crinoline, a petticoat and a plain dark gray and strict dress with no silky ribbons, no bows and no lace.

Artemus closed the glass-paneled door of the parlor car and turned around before leaning against it. He sighed in relief and said, "James my boy, this is the first time I'm glad to see a pretty young woman leave, no literally flee from the Wanderer."

James West smiled. "She left wearing half of your female underclothes and in one of your dresses, and you're not going to see them again you know? She's probably going to destroy it. To keep it would remind her of a bad memory."

Artie shrugged. "I don't mind. The underclothes are replaceable. As for the dress, it wasn't my favorite. On the other hand, I would have been very upset and unhappy if she had chosen the red one with the white lace. It's my favorite. It took me two weeks just to fashion all the lace and another week to make the dress." He massaged his aching left temple, winced and added, "She hit me with a blunt weapon you know…I now have a bump and a bruise."

James West couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle. "It wasn't a blunt weapon, but a book. It's the hazard of our profession, buddy, one day you can be hit by a bullet or - a book." The tone was mocking.

Still massaging his sore temple, Artemus joined his partner who was standing beside the table and pouring coffee into two cups, and continued, "It's a first for me, before her no one had ever hurt me with a book – I preferred it when she threw that pillow at me."

Still in mocking mode Jim nodded. "A pillow that you dodged admirably. Nice reflexes!" He handed a cup to his best friend. "I preferred Miss Gilbert like she was before, when she was hypnotized: I mean a young bird-brain woman thinking only to party, have fun. She was far more agreeable. We should have left her that way, hypnotized."

Artie nodded too. "Yes, you're right. She was absolutely outraged and went completely mad when she discovered with horror that she was dressed, or rather half-dressed, in that showgirl outfit."

Sitting on a chair, James West took a sip of coffee and said, "Yes, she thought that one of us had dressed her like that – like a hussy - and she didn't appreciate my kiss… it's a first for me. All the women love to be kissed by me, or almost. I kind of resent that. And she slapped me!" Looking at Torres's lamp sitting on the table he said, "You should have given it to her, as a souvenir."

Holding his cup of coffee, Artemus took a place on the golden upholstered sofa and shook his head. "Why? She probably would have broken it in thousand pieces. She wanted to forget everything that happened to her when she was hypnotized – besides, I wanted to keep that lamp for myself to put it in my collection of souvenirs from our missions. Torres used it on me too, you know, but he didn't manage to hypnotize me with it. My will was stronger than his lamp and his voice." He swallowed a mouthful of delicious strong coffee (he had prepared himself – Jim's coffee being abominable) and continued, "I had to pretend that I was hypnotized, but it wasn't easy, and I was hurt." He rubbed his right shoulder where the 'man of steel' had pushed a long needle up to the bone." One day I'll write something about hypnosis techniques; it's really a fascinating subject which has been little studied."

Smiling, Jim nodded. "Always the scientist… You know what you're talking about with hypnosis. Dr. Arcularis hypnotized you a few months ago."

Leaning against the backrest of the comfortable sofa, Artemus sighed. "Yes, and I don't remember anything, but I probably had the same treatment he gave to you." Disgruntled, he pursed his lips "You resisted and I didn't. I wasn't strong enough to resist." He cursed under his breath. "I don't understand… I'm not suggestible. Proof: I resisted Torres successfully."

Sitting beside his best friend, Jim patted Artie's leg in a comforting gesture. "There's an explanation. Dr. Arcularis managed to hypnotize you because you were very worried about me, and your mental defenses were thus affected. You're too emotional, Artie, and sometimes it causes some problems. Your emotions took over your cool. You kept your emotions at bay with Torres and not with Arcularis. The difference is here, Artemus. You're the strongest-willed man I know, buddy; you don't have to be angry with yourself."

Knitting his eyebrows, now ashamed, Artie said, "I tried to kill you – I don't remember that either. Oh boy! I could have killed you, Jim."

Smiling Jim pressed his partner's shoulder. "But you didn't. You weren't yourself Artie, it wasn't your fault. You were obeying Arcularis' orders. I wasn't happy to, but I had to knock you out. It was you or me. You are a very good shot buddy, and you missed me."

Feeling better, Artie smiled. "Of course I missed you, you had kicked my hand, hurt my fingers – my aim wasn't good." He finished his coffee and then placed the empty cup on the coffee table. He took his violin from the sofa and tried the strings, tuning them gently.

Concerned, Jim frowned. "Speaking of hurt, your shoulder's okay?"

Smiling, Artie nodded. "Oh yes, it's just sore." He drew his bow across the strings and played a short dancing melody. "I've had more serious injuries, but pretending not to feel anything when Torres hurt me with that needle was very difficult. It hurt like hell!" He placed the instrument and the bow on his lap, and took a fresh sip of the bitter and hot beverage he had prepared a few minutes earlier. "It was difficult also to swim under the water during the several minutes I was in the siphon to reach the subterranean river. It was dark and I couldn't see anything and the water was cold, numbing. But fortunately for me, I'm very good at holding my breath and I was lucky. I ended up in the middle of the river and I escaped. I took a horse, and half an hour later I was on the President's train. I told Grant the whole thing and I took his place as a decoy."

Sitting his empty cup on his lap Jim said, "I didn't know there was a siphon communicating with that subterranean river."

Artie shook his head. "I didn't either. It was just a deduction: the river was not far away, we could hear it running, and when I saw the water hole and the water moving on the surface, I thought that the two were communicating via a siphon. I seized the opportunity to escape, I needed to warn the President, protect him and then save you. But you were safe when I finally found you – and Torres was dead, drowned."

Feeling a pang of anxiety remembering what happened, Jim frowned. "I thought you were dead Artie – knocked out with that gas and drowned in that waterhole after you fell in it."

Still feeling guilty, Artemus took his violin and carefully retuned it. "I'm sorry, Jim, and I apologize again. In fact I let myself fall into that water hole in order to escape – but I was suffocating, I was unable to talk to you, to explain my plan to you."

Jim stood up and poured himself a second cup of coffee. "Apologies accepted again. I was both very surprised and immensely relieved to see you after Torres was drowned."

Artie grinned. "And I was immensely relieved to see that you were still in one piece, Jim," he said, plucking at the strings.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door, and it opened shortly after, revealing Ulysses S. Grant. He took a step inside. "Good day gentlemen," he said, removing his hat.

Immediately the two men stood, standing almost at attention, and Jim asked, "Mr. President? I thought you had already left for Washington after your speech at Alto Nuevo, Sir."

Grant smiled. "Without thanking you both for what you did, no. It would have been rude of me." He closed the door behind him and said, "Jim, Artemus, thank you. You saved my life again – stopping that man, Torres, that steel assassin who wanted to kill me. You'll have both a commendation for that."

Both Jim and Artie smiled, very pleased, and said, "Thank you, Sir," in chorus.

President Grant put his hat on the desk where the telegraph key was sitting, and took a place on the sofa, carefully placing the violin and the bow on the coffee table. "Sit down please." The two men immediately complied. "You should replace me more often, Artemus. Excellent likeness, by the way. I might give myself a break from time to time and go fishing while you are in my chair at the White House. Speaking of the White House, I met Miss Emily Bartow, Senator Bartow's lovely daughter at the White House before leaving for Texas. She asked me to say 'hello' to you, and to tell you that she would love to see you as soon as possible at her home to get acquainted with you more..."

Blushing a little, embarrassed Artie said, "Emily is a good friend of mine, Sir…"

Grant nodded. "And she's not the only one, I am told. All the lovely women of Washington seem to be good friends of yours, Artemus – very good friends."

Even more embarrassed, Artie defended himself, "I have many good friends in Washington Sir… and they're not exclusively female."

Pouring a third cup of coffee, Jim handed it to Grant. "Coffee Sir? Artie prepared it." He smirked while Grant took the cup and said "thank you". "You're right Artie, not all of them are female, only 99%." He ignored his partner's black look and added, "How could they resist you? You are very intelligent, gallant, well behaved, multi-talented. You have a lot of charm and you rescued many of them when they were attacked by robbers in recent weeks, armed with your courage alone. You're a knight in shining armor and women love knightly men. Women talk – a lot, and they're fighting to invite you for tea or for a collation in the garden, and you just can't say 'no' to women." He chuckled.

Smiling, Artemus said, "Yes, it's true, but you forgot that I'm handsome. But once Washington is behind us, you are the one which no woman can resist, I no longer exist then. I'm invisible. But I'm not jealous, it's like that, that's all. I accept it." He smirked. "Oh! But sometimes it doesn't work, take Miss Gilbert for example. She slapped you after you kissed her. My poor James, you just can't win them all."

Grant sipped his coffee silently, very amused at the two men bantering. Since they started working together the two men had loved to exchange remarks in a good-humored teasing way like brothers do.

Jim smiled. "But the exception confirms the rule."

Clearing his throat, Ulysses S. Grant finally said, "Boys, please! Let's be serious now. I also came here to give you a new assignment. Four trains of the Southern Pacific Transportation Company, transporting soldiers and loaded with important cargos - weapons, bank notes and gold - mysteriously vanished between Piedra Blanca and El Paso, on the Sunset Route, in the span of one week, last month. I sent troops to explore the area along the railway track, but they didn't find anything. I hope you have better luck. Your mission, gentlemen, is to find out what happened: to find the people, the trains and their cargos and to do what is necessary so that what happened doesn't happen anymore."

The two secret agents nodded. "Yes Sir," Artemus said.

President Grant took a sip of coffee and added, "Be cautious, that mountainous far-west portion of Texas is the playground of several bands of free Comanche warriors."

Jim nodded. "We know Sir. But they don't kill the white people they capture, Sir. They trade them against livestock. They're hiding in the mountains next to the Mexican border. We tried to force them to go in the reserves, but they refuse and fight our soldiers."

Ulysses S. Grant nodded. "I know that. Of course, if you are captured, it could take some time before the negotiations are successful, but in the end, you will be released. Jim, Artemus, best for you would be to avoid the Comanche."

Jim nodded. "We'll do our best, Sir."

Frowning, Artie whispered to himself, "I have a bad feeling about this…"

Tbc.


	2. Act One

**THE NIGHT OF THE COMANCHE MOON**

 **By Andamogirl**

WWW

 **ACT ONE**

 _Piedra Blanca, Texas_

It was high noon.

Mounted on his stallion, Blackjack, James West was scanning the landscape around through the undulating scorching heat waves. "There's nothing here," he said. But sand, rocks, hardy shrubs, dust and the barren white mountains that stretched for miles across the whole horizon. He blinked blearily in the too-bright sunlight, sweat burning his eyes. "And it's hot! It's probably the hottest day of summer," he added, while chasing away a fly buzzing around him, thirsty.

Sweat running down his temples onto his neck, Artie nodded. "It's damn hot, yes, hotter than hell!" he said before removing his hat to wipe his forehead with his sleeve, chasing away the same fly in his turn. He nodded and pointed at a small village located at the entrance of a canyon. "Summer days are hot with cool summer nights in this region. But that didn't stop people from settling here. Dozens of people are living down here, Jim." He brushed dust from his white hat, and added, "The railroad track crossing the region and through that canyon to El Paso took years to build, you know. Many people died because of the excessive heat, rattlesnakes and scorpions, dehydration - and because of the Indians, of course."

Giving Artie an odd look, Jim said, "You know Artemus, what I like with you is that you always have a knack of reassuring people."

Putting his hat back on his head, Artie smiled. "James my boy, I'm always telling the truth whatever the effect, when I'm not lying through my teeth, and then only when I'm impersonating someone, of course. It's one of my many virtues. My great-aunt Maude always told me, 'Artemus, truth hurts'."

Chucking, Jim took his canteen, his tongue was dry. He opened it and took a swallow of tepid water. "Name another one of your famous virtues."

Artie copied Jim, drinking tepid water from his own canteen. "What for? Like you told me recently, I'm a knight in shining armor, that's explanation enough."

They both burst out laughing and put their canteens back in place.

Suddenly they saw a big cloud of dust on the horizon signaling the presence of horsemen. They were heading towards the small village at top speed, riding down the side of a rounded mountain. They divided and let out loud war cries.

Instantly, birds flew out of the sparse, ragged trees, frightened. The two agents shared a look, then exclaimed at the same time: "Comanche!"

Pulling his Winchester out of his holster, Jim said, "We're not going to let them capture the villagers! I'm taking the ones on the left; you take the ones on the right! Be careful!" Then he dug his heels into his stallion's flanks and Blackjack took off, kicking up dust clouds, galloping at top speed towards the dozens of Indians now closing on the village.

Pressing his hat on his head, Artie said, "Yes, you too Jim. So much for avoiding the Comanche!" Hitting the sides of his horse too, Artie jolted Chestnut forward and soon the gelding was galloping towards the Comanche attacking the terrified people who were trying to flee.

He cursed under his breath as he saw two armed men fall to the ground, a spear protruding from their backs after they had fired at the Comanche – and holding his Colt, he fired.

Immediately the Comanche, armed with spears and bows and arrows, regrouped and then split into two groups, one galloping towards Jim and the other heading towards Artemus.

The two agents fired, killing two warriors each, but had to flee as arrows rained in their direction, and they both headed towards the canyon.

Riding his black horse, James West was the first to reach the boulder-ridden canyon, quickly followed by Artemus Gordon riding his quarter horse.

The Comanche got closer and closer. Their horses were skillful, and they knew every rock and bush there by heart.

Dozens of arrows whizzed by and Jim and Artie did their best to dodge them.

Suddenly a rattlesnake slid out from the shade of its rock and scared Chestnut. The quarter horse reared, throwing his rider to the ground. "Jim!" Artie cried out before hitting the ground with a thud.

Immediately two Comanche skidded to a halt next to Artemus, groggy, lying sprawled on his back on the sandy ground.

Taking their knives they put their sharp blades on the white man's throat.

Galloping straight towards the Comanche, Jim used his gun to shoot one warrior, then another one, and yet another before two Comanche jumped on him and they crashed all three to the ground. Jim found himself with two blades at his throat too.

Dismounting his pinto horse, a Comanche built like a horse, all muscle and mass, wearing only a leather belt with a breechcloth, his arms and chest tattooed with geometric designs, glared at the prisoners. "I am Silver Cloud, and you are now my prisoners."

He smiled, and taking his tomahawk, he used it to strike Jim's head before doing the same thing to Artie, knocking them both out.

He nodded and smiled, satisfied. He will keep the white men captive until he can exchange them against livestock. But before that they will have to pay: they had killed many braves - and a few of them were his friends, he thought.

Using leather thongs, the Indians tied up the two white men and then put them across their saddles, where they secured them with their ropes.

WWW

 _Much later in the Comanche settlement_

It was mid-day when Jim regained consciousness with a pounding headache, hair plastered to his skull, soaked with sweat, and he grunted. Squinting his eyes against the harsh, bright sun beating down on his body and on everything else too with unforgiving rays, he realized that he was tied to a post set on a small elevation at the edge of the Comanche settlement which rested on a square, grass-filled mesa surrounded by large shelves of rock forming a natural fortification. He could see Indians posted on top of them. Horses were grazing in one corner and the cattle in another.

He tried to twist out of his bindings but had to stop as it was futile. Indians in general were good at tying their prisoners up. He knew it by experience. But it was the first time he was tied up to a post, he mused.

He heard a moan and turned his head to the left. His partner, tied like him to a post two steps away, was slowly coming around. He noticed that Artie's face was red and sweat was beading his face and neck, his hair was clinging to his forehead in sweaty spikes. "Artie!"

Blinking towards consciousness, Artemus woke to a skull-crushing headache. "Ow! OW!" and rapidly realized that he was slumped against a post and attached to it. "Oh boy!" He straightened and turned his head to the side and saw Jim there, a prisoner like himself. Like him, his arms were stretched back and attached to a thick wooden post. "Hiya Jim." He said, licking his dry and cracked lips. He tried flexing his arms to try to loosen the ropes, but couldn't.

Still frowning in concern, Jim asked, "You okay Artie?"

Pulling on his ropes Artie sighed. "Yes. I just have a mother of all headaches, a big bump probably – a second one - and I'm very hot, but other than that, I'm fine." He glanced around him. "Comanche settlement, hmm. President Grant is not going to be happy. He wanted us to avoid the Comanche."

Jim nodded. "I know, Jim said, "But he'll understand. We had to do something Artie. We had to help them. In the end the Comanche followed us and I suppose that the villagers took the opportunity to flee. Now they're safe, thanks to us."

He frowned, puzzled, watching the Comanche come and go between the tepees, attending to their diverse occupations: women were preparing food, making clothes, tanning hides, taking care of the children, etc., and the men were sitting cross-legged in circles, discussing (old men) or training (younger men) with their bows and arrows and spears.

Looking back at Artemus, Jim said, "You know, it's odd… they don't seem to be interested in us. It's as if we were not here."

Looking at Jim Artie said, "That's because we're not their first white-face prisoners, Jim. The Comanche regularly 'welcome' captives. Like the others, after a few days of captivity – the time it takes a Comanche warrior to get in touch with the federal authorities, we'll be exchanged against livestock." Looking at the tall, broad and imposing warrior, naked from waist up, wearing his hair in two long braids tied with colored cloth, with a single eagle feather, coming their way, Artie nodded and said, "Speaking of warrior, we have a visitor… Silver Cloud."

Jim nodded. "Warrior number one, I bet."

Silver Cloud stopped in front of Jim and said, "You and your friend killed eight warriors. I am going to make you pay for that. Four of them were my friends."

Feeling a bit worried, clearing his throat, Artie intervened, "You want to kill us? I thought you wanted to trade against livestock."

The chief of the Comanche warriors moved in front of Artemus. "I am not going to kill you. No, I am going to make you suffer before trading you for what we need," he said. Two braves joined Silver Cloud, and he pointed at Artie, "We are going to start with you."

Rolling his eyes, Artie sighed. "Why is it always me first? I know, it's probably my natural charm…"

Jim frowned, worry etched into his features. "Artie…"

Looking at his best friend, Artemus smiled reassuringly and said, "Don't worry Jim, this isn't the first time that I'm to be tortured. I can withstand it."

Once Artemus was released, he shook his sore lower arms and hands, getting the circulation going while giving Silver Cloud a black look. He struggled to free himself, growling, when two Indians grabbed him tightly. "Let go of me! I'm not going to escape!"

Silver Cloud nodded, and the two Comanche released Artemus. The shorter one suddenly punched Artie in the cheek. "You killed my friends, you're going to suffer," he spat.

Surprised, hurt, Artie slumped a little, dazed. Then losing his cool, he responded, glowering: he swung his fist as hard as he could at the other man's tattooed face. There was a sickening crunch and the man staggered back, blood pouring from his broken nose, before crumpling to the ground. He hit the second warrior, square in his face before he could react. The brave cried out and collapsed to the ground on the spot, passed out. In a flash then, he grabbed a knife from one of the Indian's belts and faced Silver Cloud.

Silver Cloud took a step forward, confident. "You will not win, white man," he said. "No one has ever won a fight against me."

Deeply worried for his partner, afraid of seeing him beaten pretty badly, he said, "Artie! Don't! Forget about it!"

But Artemus did. He ran full force at the Comanche warrior, knocking him off balance and into the ground, his knife at his throat. "You were saying? Drop your knife!"

Silver Cloud complied and suddenly grabbed Artie's wrist using his other hand, grabbing so violently that the agent yelped in pain and let go of his knife.

Still holding Artie's wrist, grinning, Silver Cloud pulled Artemus's other arm forward and threw his opponent over, slamming his back down onto the sandy ground. He leapt on him like a predator on its prey, pinning the other man down.

Artemus struggled against his adversary's hold, but the Comanche was too strong.

Silver Cloud smiled in victory, sliding the side of his knife down Artemus's throat. "You are brave, for a white man," he said. He pressed closer, using the weight of his powerful body to hold Artemus's arms in place. He pressed the knife against Artie's throat, cutting in.

Blood beaded on the skin.

Feeling a sharp pain where the blade had cut, Artie grimaced and said, "I yield."

Silver cloud nodded. "A wise decision," he said, standing.

The two warriors, blood on their faces, brutally grabbed Artemus and pulled him up to his feet. The secret agent immediately froze, then flinched when the Comanche cut his stomach with his knife. He let out sharp intake of breath which was accompanied by a short strangled cry of pain as blood rapidly reddened the fabric of his white shirt.

Silver Cloud snarled and suddenly grabbed Artemus's chin. "Do that again, pale face and I will cut you more and deeper," he said his voice threatening." Then he started to cut his prisoner's clothes: his vest, his shirt, his belt, his pants, his boots and even his socks, deliberately slicing the skin while doing it. – and spared only Artemus's short black underwear.

He wanted to frighten the white man, not to humiliate him.

Silver Cloud, stone faced, commanded, "Take him to the burning stone."

His hands raised, Artemus didn't resist this time. "By the way, you speak English very well."

Silver Cloud nodded. "Yes, the whole band speaks your language well. We trade with white men for a long time, that is why."

Then the two Comanche holding Artie in a vice grip brought him to a large white stone in the midst of the tepees. It was placed in the middle of a natural hot pool. There were bursting bubbles at the surface of the boiling water.

Silver Cloud said, "That is the burning stone. We used it to cook our food – but sometimes - we use it for other purposes…"

Intrigued, Artie said, "Torturing recalcitrant prisoners I suppose?...Then Artemus's scientific mind kicked in. "It looks like the superheated water that can be found in hot springs in Yellowstone National Park. I didn't know there was geothermal activity here…"

Silver Cloud growled. "Enough talking! Take him to the burning stone!"

Walking on planks placed across the bubbling pool of water, the two Comanche pushed Artemus before them until he reached the stone. Once there, Artie yelped when he touched the burning stone.

It was really burning!

Pointing their knives at Artemus, the Comanche forced the white man to climb on the stone, then moved back and removed the planks.

Grimacing, Artemus tried to minimize the contact of his naked skin with the burning stone, moving restlessly on top of it.

Plus, the sun was relentless. Its heat was almost unbearable. It reflected off the pale sand and the whiteness of the stone back at him.

Silver cloud smirked and said, "You stop doing that soon, too tired to continue. The burning sensation will quickly become intolerable and I will be delighted to hear your cries of pain - and then your desperate pleas that I end your torment. I strongly recommend you to stay on the stone, white-face: that pool is deep and as you can see, filled with boiling water. You'd be burned very severely and lose the use of your legs." Then he sat cross-legged on the sandy ground – watching, rapt.

Little by little the Comanche gathered around the 'burning stone' watching the white man change position every five seconds, wincing, grunting.

His face flushed, his skin reddened, burning, and sweating profusely and breathing fast, Artemus Gordon felt like a steak in a frying pan.

Artemus stop moving on the stone four hours later and rested on his side. He was incredibly weak and could barely move. His whole body stung and his eyes were all swollen.

He was exhausted, dehydrated and on the verge of losing consciousness when through blurred vision, he saw Silver Cloud standing, "No… pleas will come from me," he managed on a gasped breath. His vision was now blackening.

Then he rolled on his stomach, let out a pained whine and there was only blackness.

Impressed by the white man's courage and fighting spirit, the chief of the Comanche warriors gestured towards two braves. "Take him out! Let us see if he can resist what I plan next for him."

Two warriors placed the planks back across the bubbling pool of hot water. They were ready to walk on them when they were distracted by the high, shrill call of an eagle. They looked up – and everyone else did in the settlement – and all the Comanche and Jim tied to his post saw a golden eagle stooping towards them in a rapid glide. They immediately moved back, stunned, as they watched the big raptor land gracefully on Artemus's back, its formidable feet and talons digging into the tender flesh.

Marking it.

Sprawled on his stomach Artemus stirred slightly, breathing out a soft moan.

Moving his dark brown wings threateningly, the male golden eagle let out short calls while opening his broad wings wide – covering Artie's prone body with its wingspan. He looked around him, and then it flew away. He circled once around Jim's head and then headed towards the immense deep blue sky.

Moving forward, the oldest of the leaders of the band said, "The Sacred _Kwihnai_ (a/n: eagle in Comanche language) which is the messenger between humans and the Big Father (a/n:Creator god, most commonly identified with the sun) has opened his wings above the white man, signaling that way that he's protecting the white man – and so does the Big Father." People nodded around him and he continued, "The Sacred Kwihnai is associated with warriors and courage in battle and it has marked the white man, signaling that way that it has recognized a courage and strength equal as its own – and designated him as a great warrior." Another round of nods. He raised his hand and added, "Release the prisoner and heal him!" He glanced at Jim tied to a post. "Release his companion too. The sacred bird flew over him, so it respects him too – and so does the Big Father Lead them to Red Crow's tepee."

WWW

 _Later under Red Crow's tepee_

Once inside Red Crow's tepee, Jim crouched beside Artemus, overheated and still passed out, wearing nothing but long boxer shorts, lying on the blanket-covered ground. Artemus's normally pale freckled skin had gone deep red from the burning sun, and his sweat-soaked hair was a mass of dark curls and spikes.

He took a water bag made from a buffalo's stomach lining, and poured some water over Artie's face, particularly on his swollen eyes and cracked lips. "Come on buddy, wake up!" and continued to do that until Artie slowly stirred, blinked and finally opened his eyes.

Blinking, Artemus asked, his voice a dry whisper, "Wha… h'ppened?"

Holding the water bag to his partner's lips, Jim said, "You have heatstroke Artie. Take a few slow sips." And the other man drank greedily.

Frowning in concern, Jim said, "Slowly Artie or you'll get sick." And he pulled the jar away, eliciting a displeased grunt from Artie.

Closing his puffy eyes, Artemus mumbled, "'M… ired."

But Jim shook his shoulder. "You'll sleep later. You need to drink Artie!" and coaxed him into taking occasional sips of water until the water bag was empty.

Completely drained, Artie murmured, "Sleep, now?"

Jim nodded. "Yes, you can sleep now." And Artemus was gone in a split second. "You're going to be okay." And to be sure of that he checked on Artie. His pulse was slower and stronger, his breathing steadier. "Yes, you're going to be okay." He took a second water bag, full, and poured the content on Artie's body from head again to toe, smoothing it along with his bare hand against the scorched skin, cooling Artemus down.

WWW

 _Later_

Red Crow crouched beside Artemus spread eagle on his stomach on a nest of colored blankets. The old Medicine Man of the band observed Artie's back attentively, fascinated, impressed, tracing with his fingers the marks let by the Sacred Kwihnai. The reddened and swollen skin was covered with blisters and burns. It was crisscrossed with many old white battle scars too.

He looked at Jim sitting cross-legged, his brow furrowed in concern. "He's strong. With my prayers and medicine, he'll be alright." Pointing at the scars, he added, "It took a lot of courage and strength to bear all these injuries. Did he get them during battles?"

Jim nodded. "Yes and he almost died… many times."

Red Crow nodded. "He's a great warrior, that's why the Sacred Kwihnai, the sacred eagle, marked him. He sensed it. The Sacred Kwihnai flies above all the creatures of the world and sees everything, even what's inside a man's heart. He can recognize a great warrior. A legend says that in times of war, the Sacred Kwihnai selects exceptional warriors to be war chiefs using their sharp talons to mark them before important battles. But it has never happened before…" He frowned, totally puzzled. "… with a white man." He continued, "Only the bravest men are chosen by the sacred eagles and marked that way, so that anyone can recognize them by the distinctive scars left – And that's not all, the Sacred Kwihnai which is the messenger between humans and the Big Father opened his wings above your friend, signaling that way that the Big Father's protecting him – and, one last thing, wherever your friend will go from now on, now that he's marked, all the eagles – and the Big Father - will protect him."

Jim nodded, smoothing the curly damp hair off his best friend's forehead. "You mean every time he'll be in danger?"

Red Crow shook his head. "No, not always. People marked before him were not protected at all times. The Big Father chooses when. No one can predict it. The Big Father has its own reasons."

Jim nodded again. "I'm not surprised something like that happened to him. He's an exceptional man, the best in all things," he said.

Red Crow nodded in his turn. "It has never happened to a white man before. Does he have Indian blood running in his veins?"

Jim shook his head. "No, his grand-parents were Scottish immigrants, from the Highlands, and his mother is Polish. Her name is Helena."

Red Crow looked down again at his 'patient'. The Sacred Kwihnai didn't do that without a reason. I believe that your friend is destined to have close relations with Indians in the future and will help them."

Looking down at Artie, Jim said, "He has a friend amongst a Cheyenne band, called American Knife. He's a Medicine Man like you. They spent two weeks together during his last leave. He learnt a great deal of things with him – the Cheyenne language for example."

Chanting prayers, Red Crow took a bucket made from stiff rawhide, and poured green colored water onto Artie's back, and using his hand he gently wiped the blood from the puncture holes. Immediately there was a flinch through all the muscles there, and Artemus stirred and whimpered. "That herbal potion will avoid infection." Then he opened a buckskin pouch containing a thick and sticky yellowish paste. "This ointment will help the healing," he explained as he put his hands into it, filling them with the strong smelling ointment. Leaning towards Artemus, he started spreading a thick layer of it on the wounds, gently, in circles, working it into his very sensitive flesh. He added, "But it won't make the scars disappear. Such scars need to stay visible. It's a great honor to have such scars! Comanche of this band - of any band – would be proud to show them off," he said as he dragged his fingers down Artie's back.

Chanting prayers again while opening another buckskin pouch filled with another ointment, brownish and greasy this time, the Medicine Man plunged his hands in it and started smoothing them over Artemus's legs. "This other ointment will alleviate the burning sensation and make the redness vanish. It will reduce the swelling and his skin won't peel."

Suddenly the buffalo-hide flap closing the entrance of the tepee opened, and the oldest of the leaders of the Comanche band, the Peace Chief, stepped inside.

He looked down at Red Crow kneeling beside Artemus, spreading ointment on the white man's shoulders. "How is he?" he asked.

Red Crow nodded. "He's strong, Yellow Arrow. He should recover quickly. He should be able to walk again by tomorrow."

Looking down at Jim, Yellow Arrow said, "You can leave as soon as your friend is better. You're not our prisoners anymore, but _honored guests_."

Once Artemus's legs, back, shoulders and arms were covered with ointment, Red Crow gently moved him on his back.

Moaning, Artie chose this moment to open his eyes. Jim leant over him, smiling reassuringly. He could feel heat radiating from his body. "Hey there Artie, don't move buddy. Everything's okay."

Eyes clouded with the intense pain that radiated in his whole body, tears streaming down his face, Artie gritted his teeth. "Jim… go away. Let me… You have to escape…" He said with labored breath.

Jim slid his fingers down to Artie's jaw and gently turned his head towards him. The older man was flushed and sweating. Then, passing a soothing hand in his partner's hair, thumb and fingertips rhythmically through the messy curls, he said, "There's no need Artie, we're not prisoners anymore, but honored guests. And I wouldn't leave without you."

Feeling Jim beside him, his hand massaging his scalp, Artie relaxed a little, but he was still confused and disoriented. "'m going to die… go, let me." His voice was barely audible.

Chanting prayers again, Red Crow began cleaning Artie's cuts with the herbal disinfectant, starting with the one on his throat.

Artie immediately hissed and writhed on the blankets. He grabbed Jim's hand and pressed it, wincing. "Boy!" he grunted.

Jim said, "You're not going to die Artie. The Medicine Man is taking care of you."

Red Crow covered the cuts with his thick yellowish paste and said, "It's not deep and will heal nicely. You won't even have a scar." He began spreading the ointment on Artemus's chest and added. "You should feel better in a few hours. These ointments are very potent."

Closing his eyes, new tears rolling down his cheeks, Artemus breathed, "Sorry… love you Jim, brother." Then his eyes fluttered shut and he slipped into the beckoning darkness.

WWW

 _The next morning_

It was past dawn when Artemus woke – finding himself lying on his side, head pillowed in his folded arm, beside Jim, facing him. Jim too was lying on his side, propped on an elbow and watching him. "Hiya Jim!" he said, his voice hoarse.

Moving himself swiftly to a sitting position, Jim sat cross-legged, smiled and said, "Hi Artie. How are you feeling buddy?"

Slowly, gingerly, Artemus rolled on his back. "Cooked, sore and thirsty, but a lot better, thanks." He raised his hand and inspected it. It was less reddened and swollen but it still stung a little. He looked around him, still a bit groggy but very surprised. "We're in a tepee – what happened? I thought I'd wake up attached to my post, cooked."

Taking the water bag, Jim said, "Something incredible happened. You're not going to believe it, but it really happened, I swear." He brought the former buffalo stomach to his best friend's lips and Artie took a sip and felt sweet relief as cool water filled his mouth. "A golden eagle, a sacred animal for the Comanche, symbol of courage and strength – the messenger between humans and the Big Father and which is associated with warriors and courage in battle … landed on your back when you were passed out on the burning stone and it marked you with his talons. I'm sorry to tell you that but you have new scars on your back: a nice set of puncture holes."

Then Jim told Artie what Red Crow had told him – word for word.

Stunned, Artie blinked three times. "What? Really? Great Scot! That's an extraordinary story!" He took another sip of cold water, closed his eyes for a split second in bliss and said, "Well… what can I say? I am very pleased and honored to learn that I am a very brave man… and that a sacred eagle and the Big Father are protecting me from now on."

Jim nodded. "But it's whenever the Big Father chooses to. It's not automatic each time you're in danger. But because of what that eagle did, Red Crow thinks you are destined to have close relations with Indians in the future and help them. I think perhaps with American Knife's Cheyenne band. You are close to the Medicine Man and to the Cheyenne."

Artie nodded. "Yes I am, they're my friends, and it's possible. I'd like that."

The flap closing the entrance of the tepee opened and Silver Cloud entered, holding in his arms a pile of clothes with a pair of moccasins on top.

Keeping his face neutral, Artie felt an involuntary shudder traveled up his spine. That man had tortured him and enjoyed every minute of it.

Silver Cloud stepped forward and bowed his head with deep respect. "I apologize for what I did to you. Please accept these clothes, because I ruined yours." He sat the pile of clothes and moccasins on the ground covered with buffalo pelts and took a step back. "They should fit you."

Moving upward on his elbows, Artie relaxed and smiled. "Thank you. Apologies accepted. Perhaps you could help me to dress. I'm not accustomed to dress like a Comanche."

Silver Cloud smiled. "That will be an honor, but you have to eat first. You must be hungry. I shall fetch you something to eat… What is your name?"

His whole body sore, Artie managed to sit up on the blanket and said, "My name is Artemus."

Silver Cloud frowned. "Ar-te-mus. It is a strange name. What does it mean?"

Artemus smiled. "Actually, my mother thought she was expecting a girl, and she had chosen to name her Artemis after she was born, it's the name of the Greek goddess of hunting. But she delivered a boy: me. So instead of naming her daughter Artemis, she called her son Artemus, Artemis masculine version. People think that the name Artemis is composed of the Greek word arktos – which means Bear or Big Dipper - and thémis which means great strength or 'the order established by the gods'."

Silver Cloud was impressed and summarized, "Then Ar-te-mus, means Strong Bear. That name suits you. You are tall and broad, you are strong… I saw a bear once in Chihuahua. It was big, strong and had a silver fur. He was so beautiful that I did not kill him."

Artemus let out a small chuckle. "I have just remembered that the second first name of my mother is Ursula; that means 'little she-bear'."

Silver Cloud nodded. "Little she-bear. It is a beautiful name. It sounds like a Comanche name. I will see you later, Strong Bear." He smiled and left the tepee.

Eyes twinkling, Jim chuckled mockingly. "Artemus – Strong Bear – Gordon, son of Helena Ursula 'little she-bear' Gordon… Are you sure you're not Indian?"

Smiling Artie nodded. "Yes I am."

Jim continued, "Strong Bear… I like it, it sounds good. But for now you look more like a red-lobster than a bear Artie…" He giggled and Artie rolled his eyes. He smirked when he saw Artie touch his right temple and said, "Don't worry yourself Artemus, you don't have a single silver hair - yet. But that will come. Then I will call you Strong Silver Bear."

This time Artemus shot a black look at Jim.

WWW

 _Later in the tepee_

Hearing a voice, no a song – and a melody played on a flute, Artemus slowly opened his eyes, finding himself lying on his stomach on the nest of blankets, his face tucked into his folded arms.

He was confused for a few seconds then realized three things: first he had fallen asleep again (after eating a full bowl of armadillo stew with wild berries and nuts), two: Jim had left the tepee and three: two children about 9 or 10, both girls, were sitting cross-legged beside him – whispering to each other, observing him attentively. The smaller held a flute.

He smiled and said, "Hello girls." He pulled himself into a sitting position, wincing and crossed his long legs beneath him. The children immediately moved behind him to touch the marks left there by the eagle's talons. His smile grew broader. Then he noticed he had a bracelet around his left hand. It was a simple beaded leather strand. He turned and facing the girls, showed them his left wrist. "Who did this?"

Raising her hand, the girl wearing a buckskin-fringed dress painted with red patterns. "Me. Do you like it?" she asked.

Artie nodded. "Yes, it's lovely."

She smiled broadly. "It's a gift, to you. My father told me that if I give you something, the sacred Kwihnai and the Big Father protecting you will see it, and will protect me too."

The other girl, dressed almost identically except for the color of the patterns (yellow) of her dress and holding the flute, nodded and said, "I braided a strand of your hair on the top of your head. It's my gift to you. It wasn't easy, because your hair is short. So, it's small."

Chuckling now, Artie touched his 'scalp lock', surprised to find his hair greased. "Thank you, I like it too. I'm sure it's beautiful." he said. He touched his hair again and discovered with surprise, again, that it was parted from the middle of his forehead to the back of his neck. "You did that too?"

The young girl nodded. "Comanche men wear their hair that way. I even painted the scalp along the parting in red." She smiled, pleased with what she had done.

Strong Bear nodded. "I'm not a Comanche," he pointed out.

The other girl nodded too. "We know, but… " They giggled and exchanged a complicit glance. "We found it amusing to do that to your hair."

Smiling Artie bowed his head. "Thank you." Loving music and all the instruments, he reached out. "I loved your song, and you're playing the flute quite well. Can I see it? I'll be careful."

She handed him the instrument and asked, "You play?"

To answer, Artie brought the flute to his lips, took a deep breath and blew lightly into the small hole, starting an improvised tune, and the two little girls were delighted.

He stopped after five minutes to the chagrin of both girls and said, "Come here."

Instantly, the two girls moved into Artemus's arms. "I don't have anything to give you in return… except my music and this…" and he kissed the tops of their heads.

Looking at each other, the two girls let out a squeal of delight, and left the tepee in a flash – telling everyone they met outside that Strong Bear had blessed them.

Shortly after the flap closing the entrance of the tepee opened, and Silver Cloud entered. "I see that you have met the daughters of Red Crow." He said, amused.

Smiling, Artie nodded. "They're adorable. They offered me gifts when I was sleeping – a lovely bracelet and a scalp lock."

Silver Cloud nodded. "Do you have children?"

Artemus shook his head. "No, perhaps one day… I love children. But first I need to have a wife… and it's not going to happen any time soon – with my kind of life." He stood and said, "It's time for me to dress… You're going to help me."

WWW

 _Later_

Silver Cloud took a step back, looking at Strong Bear from head to toe. The other man was wearing a leather belt with a breechcloth and loose-fitting deerskin leggings and a loose-fitting buckskin shirt with long fringes. He wore moccasins. "You could be a Comanche if you were not a white man."

Glancing down at his war shirt painted with colored tribal designs, Artie smiled. "I take that as a compliment, thank you," he said. He reached out, offering his hand to the chief of the Comanche warriors. "I'd like you and me to be friends, Silver Cloud."

The Comanche warrior was very surprised. "But I hurt you, and wanted to hurt you more – before the Sacred Kwihnai marked you."

Artie shook his head. "I'm not a vindictive man, I never was, and I never will be. I prefer to have friends than enemies. I already have a good Cheyenne friend. I'd like to have a good Comanche friend."

Silver Cloud nodded and shook Artemus hand. "It is an honor to have a man marked by a Sacred Kwihnai as a friend. Comanche like brave men and great warriors."

The two new friends left the tepee.

WWW

Shortly after, 'Strong Bear' and Silver Cloud joined Jim and Yellow Arrow, both in discussion in front of the tepee where the leaders of the Comanche met, acting as counsel and advisors to the band. Blackjack and Chestnut were there too, grazing patches of yellow-ish grass. Chestnut looked at his master, recognized him and whickered a greeting, his ears twitching forward.

Standing beside his horse, Artie patted Chestnut's cheek. "Hello my boy," he said. He leaned against the animal, pressing the side of his face against the gelding's.

Examining his partner dressed like a Comanche up and down, Jim smiled. "Artie! You look great buddy! – I mean Strong Bear."

Looking at his partner Artie smiled. "Thank you. I feel less naked."

Jim smirked. "I love your beaded strand of hair, and the way you're wearing your hair…"

Artemus lifted his left hand, showing his beaded bracelet to his partner. "I have a bracelet too. Gifts from Red Crow's daughters."

Placing a hand on Artemus's shoulder Jim said, "It's time for us to leave, Artie. But Yellow Arrow has information for us which is very interesting. Two of his braves vanished in the middle of the Piedra Blanca canyon while they looked for wild horses. The warriors who accompanied them and had stayed at the entrance to the canyon, waiting for their friends and the horses, turned back when they heard strange loud metallic noises coming from the canyon. Since then, no Comanche goes there. They think that the canyon is roamed by evil spirits, eating men."

Intrigued, Artie lifted an eyebrow. "Strange and loud metallic noises? In an empty desert canyon?" His eyes lit with interest. "It could be noises produced by trains maneuvering."

Removing his hand from Artemus's shoulder, Jim nodded. "Exactly what I thought, I think we should explore that canyon."

Silver Cloud frowned in concern. "It is a dangerous place."

Looking at the Comanche, Artemus smiled. "Danger didn't stop us – ever, and never will. Goodbye my friend. Be seeing you."

He offered a palm. The Comanche pressed it in his.

He mounted Chestnut as Jim mounted Blackjack. The two men saluted their host, and then spurred their mounts into motion. Soon they were galloping away from the Comanche settlement.

Tbc.


	3. Act Two

**THE NIGHT OF THE COMANCHE MOON**

 **By Andamogirl**

WWW

 **ACT TWO**

 _Mid-afternoon_

Mounted on his black stallion, Jim West pulled out his spyglass and explored the place that the Comanche thought was filled with evil spirits that ate men.

But there was nothing there. Tufts of rusty grass dotted the barren landscape, a wasteland of stone, rocks, shrubs and sun-bleached sand with white stone mountains on either side.

But appearances could be deceptive, he mused. Those metallic sounds the Comanche had heard came from maneuvering trains.

Looking up at the sun for a split second, Artie groaned. Sweat trickled down his neck. "I miss my hat," he said. He had climbed among the boulders on the side of the railroad track and was looking around him – spyglass-less. He squinted into the distance and sighed. "There's nothing here, just stolen trains somewhere. But it's not going easy to find them or the people and the cargo." He went down the rocks and mounted Chestnut before moving ahead, along the railroad track, surveying it.

Mopping his brow, Jim followed his partner, glancing around him cautiously. "You look like an Indian scout, Artie, less the braided hair and the eagle feather."

Smiling too Artie nodded. "And the color of my skin – I'm a white man." He suddenly halted his horse and dismounted. He knelt on the side of the track and pointed at a small amount of dark ash. "It's ash." He made a hole in the sand and found new ash. "I think I've just found how the trains were stopped Jim – men burnt wood here, on the track." He made another hole on the other side of the track and found more ash hidden under sand. "A big fire. They tried to hide the ash, but the wind revealed it." He stood and glanced around him. He spotted a large opening behind a huge group of boulders leading to another canyon. "You know… a train could easily go that way."

Dismounting Blackjack, Jim joined his best friend. "Not with those boulders on the way… and trains need a track to move on, Artie, there's no other track here."

Following his intuition, Artie nodded. "Well, if the ash was hidden under sand, they perhaps hid another track under the sand too, to shunt the trains onto a side track… heading towards that canyon there. And if I'm correct, the railroad switch should not be far from the entrance to the other canyon…" He followed the track and after a moment he found a switch mechanism well hidden behind boulders and bushes. "Ah! There's a railroad switch here… let's find the diverging track now." He didn't go far, just a few steps away and knelt in the sand. Using both hands he started to dig a hole and… found a tiny part of a curved rail heading to the right. "I was right. There's another track."

Looking at the straight tracks Jim said, "There should be another curved rail in the middle of the railway track, but there's none."

Artie nodded. "Of course, only one rail stays: the one heading towards the canyon, the other is removed so that the diverging track is undetectable by the train drivers. Then, when an interesting train is scheduled to head here, loaded with weapons and gold for example, they put the second rail in place. That's a very clever scheme." He mounted his horse, Jim following suit. "Let's see what's inside that other canyon… I'm curious to see where they hid the trains…"

Raising a finger Jim said, "Something bothers me…Trains can't go through boulders Artie…"

Smiling, sure of himself, Artemus moved towards the group of boulders and said, "Of course, unless you can move them…"

Jim was very surprised. "Move them? But they weigh tons, Artie!"

Shaking his finger, Artemus said, "They look like they weigh tons, Jim." He kicked Chestnut into motion and the gelding trotted towards the group of boulders.

Puzzled, Jim followed his partner.

Once in front of the group of boulders, he dismounted again. He moved towards the first boulder and hit it with his knuckles. It sounded… hollow. "Cardboard – a fake boulder. I knew it." He hit all of them – and discovered that they were all cardboard. "Now let's find out how they move…"

Impressed by the device, Jim said, "You were right, trains could easily go that way – and they did." He dismounted and joined his best friend.

Sliding his hand in a crack Artie pushed on the right side… and the false boulders moved slowly – revealing small tracks. "Fake boulders on wheels… that's very clever!" He pushed them completely to the side, partially unblocking the entrance to the canyon. "It's very clever and very well done. I am not surprised that nobody noticed anything."

Jim smiled. "Before you did. Well done Artie, I mean… well done Strong Bear. But you should have been called 'Hawkeye' instead, because you have a knack for finding the smallest details."

Artie smiled, pleased by the compliment. "Thank you."

They remounted their horses.

Leading Chestnut into the other canyon through a narrow entrance (just large enough for a train), Artie said, "I can be Strong Bear with hawk eyes you know. I like that name Strong Bear."

Riding beside his partner, Jim said, "Well you can be a bear alright when fighting, but a bear too that can growl when I have to wake you up early, or…"

Suddenly they heard a gunshot – that echoed through the canyon. A bullet hit the ground just before Chestnut and the horse reared.

Immediately the two agents split to take cover as a new gunshot resounded – this time it was Jim's hat that was hit and fell to the ground.

They were heading towards the narrow entrance of the canyon– retreating – when big devices came out from the white walls.

Suddenly, immense electrics arcs sprang across, forming an impassable barrier. Jim and Artie pulled on the reins to stop the horses and whirled around, guns in hand – to find themselves face to face with a dozen dressed in dark gray uniforms – holding either revolvers or rifles.

Raising his hands in surrender, Artie said, "Yet it all started so promisingly…" before being roughly thrown to the sandy ground. He noticed that Jim was undergoing the same treatment. Then he winced when his hands were tied in his back. "Take it easy, an eagle recently embedded his talons in my back!" He raised his eyes towards the sky. No eagle. "That's true; it doesn't work all the time…"

He frowned when he saw a thug hit Jim's head with the butt of his rifle, and suddenly a sharp pain exploded in his head and everything went black.

WWW

 _Later_

Tears rolled down Artemus Gordon's face.

His partner, best friend and brother-like Jim West was dead. He was so distressed that chagrin overwhelmed everything, hate included.

He was numb. His indomitable will down, broken.

Sniffling, he looked up at Torres in a daze, unable to find words. Sorrow, grief and immense pain brought him down.

Moving towards the table, Torres started to spin the lamp – a twin-sister of the lamp he had used in Pueblo Alto on Nina Gilbert and Artemus, the first time.

Flashes of bright white light hit Artemus's eyes regularly.

Tied to a chair in front of the lamp, Artemus closed his eyes. Torres frowned, upset. "Look at the lamp Mr. Gordon. Do that and you won't feel anything anymore. Pain, sorrow and grief will cease to exist. Do you want to be freed of those?"

Now vulnerable, Artie nodded. "Yes."

Still spinning the lamp, Torres smiled in triumph. He had broken the Secret Agent's will, rendering him highly suggestible to hypnosis. Finally. Using a calm, authoritative voice, he began, "Focus on the lamp, Mr. Gordon." Blinking lazily Artie, focused on the lamp. "You're feeling relaxed, you're feeling drowsier with every flash of light hitting your eyes… Focus on my voice too. Nothing matters except it. Look at the lamp, Mr. Gordon, focus on the rhythm of the flashes of light, you can feel yourself succumbing to them, going further under with every spin of the lamp…"

Completely relaxed, Artie nodded, his eyelids heavy-lidded. Torres then instructed the other man to close his eyes and drift deeper, and deeper.

Torres continued, "Your eyelids feel heavier and heavier, wanting to close, becoming more and more difficult to keep them open…" Seeing Artemus eyes closing he added, "Good! Close your eyes and as you do you'll feel your body sinking deeper into relaxation."

Once his eyes were closed, Artemus's body went limp and his head lolled to the side.

Satisfied, Torres grabbed Artie by the chin and lifted it. "I want you to open your eyes again, Mr. Gordon, but without leaving this deep trance state." Immediately Artie's eyes fluttered open. "Good, now no one can command you in this state besides me. Agree?"

Artemus made a small noise of agreement. "Good! Now I'm going to give you instructions that you will follow, eager to comply with whatever I suggest."

WWW

Slowly regaining consciousness, Jim immediately rubbed his head where a bump hurt him, and he glanced around him.

He was alone in a small cell - .no Artemus.

He was lying on a bunk and there was an opening in the ceiling, forming a shaft of light – sunlight coming from outside.

The cell was built in the rock with no opening except the small one of the metal door, where a few rays of light came through the bars. It was chilly in there, and he was a bit cold as he was wearing only a blue jumpsuit over his short underwear. He was barefoot too.

He must be inside the mountain, Jim thought.

He frowned then, puzzled. Why was he half-naked and shoes-less? Searching for a possible explanation, he moved to the door and listened – nothing, not a sound.

Jim looked through the bars and saw a dimly lit corridor. It was empty. "Someone's there? Hey!" He waited a few seconds and there was a noise of approaching feet. A man dressed in a dark gray uniform appeared. He asked, "Where's my friend?"

The guard sniggered and said, "He's with the Boss and the Doctor."

Fear pooled in Jim's stomach. Then he suddenly remembered the barrier of electric arcs, and knew who the Doctor was: Miguelito Loveless, who loved to play with electricity, and had electrocuted him a few months ago, using an electrified fence.

Suddenly another guard appeared holding a gun. "The Boss wants to see the prisoner. Release him." He told the other man.

The first guard nodded. "Okay."

WWW

 _Later_

Escorted by two men holding him at gunpoint, Jim took long corridors, climbed a stairway and finally entered into a vast room also built in the rock and lit by dozens of chandeliers, with lavish furniture and lots of carpets and tapestries.

He froze on the spot, seeing his partner, dressed in a blue jumpsuit, and barefoot, sitting on a chair beside a table on which was sitting a big lamp – looking exactly like the one Torres had used on Nina Gilbert to hypnotize her and on Artemus to try to hypnotize him.

Artemus, he noticed, was tied to the chair by leather thongs. His head was bent over his chest and his shoulders slumped. He had a feeling of dejà vu – he had seen that before, in Arcularis's lab. Raising the older man's chin, he let out a gasp of part surprise part distress as he met again chocolate empty eyes. His usually expressive face was blank under hypnosis. "Artie!"

He removed the leather thongs, freeing his immobile, impassible and statue-like rigid partner – who didn't react at all, not even blink.

Jim frowned, wondering if Arcularis hadn't escaped from prison and was responsible of Artie's current state: completely hypnotized.

He shook his best friend's shoulder. "Artie! Wake up!" But Artemus didn't react. He gently tapped Artie's face and said, "Artie! It's me! Wake up buddy."

No reaction.

He heard a door open and heard a familiar voice say, "He's not going to react, Mr. West. He will only respond to my command – and for now he's in a deep trance state, waiting for orders."

More than surprised, Jim whirled around, finding himself face to face with Torres in the flesh - plus several metallic parts. "You? I thought you had drowned!"

Moving towards the two secret service agents, Torres smiled. "I didn't, as you can see, Mr. West, I'm very much alive. There was a siphon at the bottom of the water hole, connected to a subterranean river. As I couldn't swim, I crawled inside and found the way out. I'm very good at holding my breath as I have much larger lungs which can contain more air than normal lungs. I have also been changed and improved inside. I needed more oxygen to move my new body. So, I survived."

In a possessive way he placed his metallic hand on Artemus's head, petting his hair. "When you were still sleeping Mr. West – I had you drugged in order to focus on my task, without having to think about you, I hypnotized your partner – and he's really hypnotized this time, he's not faking it." To prove it, Torres pulled out a long needle from the left sleeve of his leather jacket and embedded it deep in Artemus's left shoulder – and the older agent didn't react at all. A small patch of blood tainted the top of Artie's blue jumpsuit. He added, "He can't feel anything, no joy, no pain, no fear, nothing. He can't even think and he can't talk if I don't order him to. Oh! He resisted at first, he's very strong-willed and not suggestible – at least at first. But I had a way to break his resistance – an idea that my partner suggested to me. Only one thing makes Mr. Gordon vulnerable, or I should say one person: you, Mr. West. You are his Achilles's heel. He has a brotherly love for you – and I took advantage of it."

Jim knitted his eyebrows. "I don't understand…"

Torres smiled. "When Mr. Gordon saw a man, dressed in your clothes lying in a puddle of his own blood and looking exactly like you – he thought you were dead. He was in such emotional distress after that, that his mental barriers crumpled and it was easy to hypnotize him. No one can command him in this state besides me. Now your partner is totally mine." He petted Artie's hair then removed his hand, which looked like a medieval armored gauntlet. "He's like a puppet in my hands."

Blinking twice in surprise, Jim asked, "You made a double of me?"

Torres shook his head. "Not me."

Suddenly an armchair pivoted, and Jim immediately recognized Dr. Miguelito Loveless sitting inside, holding a glass of sherry. "He didn't, I did. It was my second double of you."

Jim let out a sigh. "I should have known it was you… You're quite fond of electricity. So the two of you are partners?"

Loveless left the armchair and trotted towards the two agents. "Mr. Torres and I both want President Grant dead, but not for the same reasons: vengeance for him, and for me… well. I'm planning to take over California with my heavily armed troops while the country is in chaos after Grant's death. That's why I needed weapons to arm them, and lots of money to pay them." He placed a finger on his lips then added, "But I have talked too much already." He looked at Artemus Gordon, frozen like a statue. "As for Mr. Gordon here, he has an important mission to accomplish."

Upset, Torres said. "Enough. Mr. West knows far too many things already. He's a very resourceful man; he could escape, warn his superiors and ruin everything."

Loveless shook his head. "Impossible. This place is protected by an impassable electrical barrier I designed myself, and he would never leave without his precious partner. They're like brothers."

Looking down at Artemus again, still 'frozen', Jim nodded. "So you planned all this for a long time – and capturing us was part of your plan."

Torres nodded. "Of course it was. After those trains vanished, I was sure that president Grant would send his best agents to find them. Mr. Gordon confirmed it when I interrogated him. He told me why he was wearing Indian clothes too. I was curious to know why. That's a remarkable story. You see, I needed Mr. Gordon for an important mission… and as for Dr. Loveless, he wanted to have you because he wants to play with you."

Loveless grinned. "Torres has Mr. Gordon to play with and I have you, Mr. West. I haven't thought about what I will do to you – yet."

Torres nodded. "Then, as Dr. Loveless here is persuaded that you won't escape, and I believe him, I'm sure that you're very interested to see my installations – that Dr. Loveless designed for us inside the Piedra Blanca mountains."

Still focused on Artemus, looking blankly ahead, Jim nodded absently.

Torres nodded and said, "Mr. Gordon, follow me." Immediately Artemus Gordon stood, his eyes empty, and followed behind. "Let me show you around, Mr. West."

Loveless took a sip of sherry. "I'm staying here, I know the place already."

Torres led the way, Jim walking behind him, side by side with Artemus. The two guards following. They left the main room.

WWW

 _Later_

They took a long corridor and stopped in front of a barred metal door. Looking through the bars, Jim could see a lot of people inside a very large cell lit by a shaft of light coming from the high ceiling. They were dressed in blue jumpsuits, barefoot – like him and Artie - and were shackled to the back wall.

Torres said, "They're prisoners, like you and Mr. Gordon. It was Dr. Loveless's idea to dress them in blue jumpsuits to identify them."

Jim nodded. "To easily spot them in case they escape, of course." He looked down at his bare feet then at the older man. "But why are we shoeless?"

Torres smiled. "In case prisoners manage to leave the facility. Dr. Loveless has placed electrified metallic plates in every entrance or exit of the facility. Walk barefoot on them and you will be electrocuted. Those like me who have special boots, are safe."

A few minutes later they entered a huge cavern, as large and high as an immense cathedral.

Four trains were stationing on one track each – four tracks which joined further on into one… leading to a vast opening in the mountainside.

Looking around him in amazement Jim couldn't help but to be admiring.

Torres smirked. "This place existed already, it's a natural cavity. But corridors and rooms were built to create a vast underground facility that contains a hundred men. Tracks were built too. That track leads to the railroad track going to El Paso."

Looking at Torres, Jim nodded. "You stole the weapons and money to arm and pay your troops, and kept the gold for yourselves – giving a half of it to your partner. Those trains will serve to transport Loveless's troops after Grant's demise."

The older man nodded. "Exactly. But before, I'm going to use a train… to kill Grant. Loveless only needs three trains to transport his soldiers. Follow me."

Shortly after, they stopped in front of a train. Men were installing bottles filled with transparent liquid with extreme caution on the front part of the locomotive, within openings provided with this purpose.

Torres smiled. "You are a very intelligent man, Mr. West, so tell me what my plan is to kill Grant." Then he waited, arms crossed on his chest.

Jim pointed at the men who were very carefully holding the bottles. "That's simple. Those bottles are filled with a liquid explosive, I'd say nitroglycerin. You're going to use the front part of the locomotive filled with that explosive to hit something – another train, the President's train." He glanced at Artemus, pale, immobile, expressionless, and added, "I don't know exactly what you planned for my partner. But as he has the President's confidence, he could delay him somehow… to the time your explosive train hits Grant's train. Let me guess, the President hasn't left for the Capital yet. He's still in El Paso and your train will head that way…"

Looking impressed, Torres clapped his hands. "Bravo, bravo Mr. West, that's exactly what I planned. Mr. Gordon will ask to see Grant – who has decided to stay in El Paso for two days to meet the Governor of Texas – and he will keep him prisoner inside the presidential train until my own train enters the railroad station at top speed, so he can't escape.

Jim nodded. "Why not just order Artemus to kill President Grant?"

Torres shook his head. "I could, but no, it would be too rapid. I want him to be frightened, terrified; I want him to wait his own death with dread. That's why Mr. Gordon will tell him what I have planned for him, and your partner will kill everyone trying to reach Grant." He looked at Artemus and smiled. "I'm going to give my instructions to Mr. Gordon, before he leaves for El Paso."

Suddenly Jim whirled around and took down the first man before he could even react. Then he punched the second man square on his chin. He collapsed in his turn to the ground, passed out. Jim rapidly picked up a gun and pointed it at the older man. But he froze when he saw that Torres had closed his metallic right hand on Artie's neck. "Release him immediately!"

His eyes cold, Torres pressed on Artie's windpipe.

Glaring at Torres Jim said, "If you hurt him, I'll find a way to kill you. I promise you that. There will be no place on earth where you can hide."

Torres nodded. "I believe you would. Drop that gun, Mr. West or your best friend here is going to die." Metal thumbs pressed hard, hands squeezed tight.

Looking at Artie, Jim saw his partner's face become red, and gurgling come out from his lips. But he didn't panic, didn't resist. He cocked the hammer of the revolver. "Kill him and he won't be of use to keep Grant prisoner in his train."

Torres smiled. "But you will replace him. You'll be so distressed to have seen me kill your partner and feel responsible of his death – that you could have prevented in dropping your gun - that breaking your mental barriers to hypnotize you after, is going to be easy."

Artemus's arms slowly fell to his sides, as he gulped for breath, his face turning blue with the lack of oxygen. His eyes slipped closed.

Defeated, Jim dropped his gun. Torres immediately removed his hand from Artie's neck. Artemus's body went limp, and his gurgling died down.

He collapsed to the ground like a rag doll.

WWW

 _Later in the cell_

Looking at the shaft of light illuminating his small cell, Jim had a sudden idea. There was only one way to escape the underground facility.

Fortunately the walls weren't smooth but covered with holes and with prominences, and the ceiling with small stalactites, he believed.

He began to climb the back wall, using them to move towards the opening through which the sun was entering the place. Once he had reached the ceiling, he used the small stalactites that covered the ceiling to move towards the shaft of light. He climbed inside, using both his hands and feet, and after long minutes of upward struggle he finally reached the top of the mountain.

He sighed. "I'm sorry Artie, but I have to leave you here… I need to find help, and I know exactly who's going to help me."

He started to run.

He had a long way ahead of him before reaching the Comanche settlement. He had to stop Artie, he thought. His partner had already left the underground facility.

Tbc


	4. Act Three

**THE NIGHT OF THE COMANCHE MOON**

 **By Andamogirl**

WWW

 **ACT THREE**

 _Later_

Enraged, Torres hit the wall of the empty cell; pieces of rock fell to the ground.

His prisoner was gone.

He looked up at the shaft of light and then at the opening in the ceiling and growled angrily. "I should have put bars there."

Dr. Loveless nodded in appreciation. "West is a very resourceful man – and he's very strong and agile." He frowned, frustrated. "He escaped! I thought he wouldn't leave his partner here… but he did. I was wrong. And Gordon has left."

Torres calmed down. "West won't be able to reach El Paso on foot for three days at least. Gordon will reach it by tonight. I will send out patrols to find West. He's tough, but he's not going to get far… He's on foot and he has no water."

Miguelito Loveless nodded. "But you forget that he has friends in the region, Torres – Comanche. If he manages to reach the Comanche settlement, they will give him a horse. And I'm sure that's what will happen. He will reach Grant's train before our train does and he'll do anything to save Grant – and his partner too. We have to modify our schedule. The explosives train needs to leave now, to have a chance to hit Grant's train before West arrives in El Paso."

Making a face, Torres cursed under his breath.

Suddenly a guard entered the cell holding a piece of paper. "I have just received a telegram from our man in El Paso, boss," he said. "President Grant left El Paso for San Antonio a few minutes ago."

Torres grinned. "That's good news! Grant's train is heading here, taking the Sunset Route. He's not expecting another train on the tracks."

Loveless nodded. "We should start the operation now, before West can reach El Paso to send a telegram to Grant."

Torres nodded too. "You're right Doctor, and the train's ready, let's put it on the tracks."

Loveless smiled. "Grant's dead."

WWW

 _Much later in the Comanche settlement_

It was late afternoon when Jim finally reached the Comanche settlement. His legs hurt and his feet were swollen and bloodied.

He collapsed in the middle of the tepees, exhausted.

Silver Cloud hoisted him in his arms and carried him into Red Crow's tepee. The Medicine man immediately surveyed the white man's body.

His skin was reddened by sunstroke, his lips were parched with dehydration and his feet were covered with bleeding cuts.

Red Crow brought a water bag to Jim's lips and the other man opened his eyes. He took a sip and said, "Need horse… fastest one." His voice was rough, from both exhaustion and pain.

Red Crow frowned. "You can't leave in your state. You ran in the desert for hours and you're dehydrated. You have to stay here."

Shaking his head Jim tried to sit, vainly. "I have to warn the President… Artemus is going to be the involuntary accomplice of his death – and he'll die too." He drank greedily, emptying the water bag in a few long gulps. "I can't stay."

Silver Cloud pulled Jim on his feet and caught him in his arms as he swayed on wobbly legs. "What can we do to help Strong Bear?"

Running a fatigued hand over his dusty face, Jim sighed and said, "Give me a horse, the fastest one. I have to neutralize Artie – without being killed - and save the President before that explosives train reaches El Paso." He took a second sip." Give me water bags too. It's a long way to reach El Paso. With a little luck I will arrive just in time to do it."

Silver Cloud patted Jim's shoulder. "I shall give you my own horse, Running with the Wind. He's the fastest horse."

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 _Later, en route to El Paso, at sunset_

Running with the Wind was galloping on the narrow dusty trail leading to El Paso, along the railroad tracks when Jim spotted, far off, a train heading his way.

It was a small point on the horizon for now. He saw that the train was followed by a rider – a smaller point, but he knew.

His instinct never deceived him. That train was Grant's train and the rider was Artie! His partner had probably spotted the Presidential train on his way to El Paso, and as he had received orders from Torres to take Grant prisoner inside, he was trying to get on board, he reckoned. Grant's train was on the same track as Torres's explosives train. He had to stop it before it was too late.

Digging his heels into the sides of the Indian horse, he accelerated.

Progressively getting closer to the Presidential train, he noticed that it was slowing down, and that Artemus was now level with its rear part.

The train had stopped when he saw his partner dismount and climb onto the rear platform. He accelerated even more.

The train was moving again on the tracks when he reached the locomotive. He reached the rear platform in his turn and jumped on it.

He opened the door and found Artemus pointing a gun at the President.

Looking at Jim blankly, his face expressionless, still in deep trance, Artie aimed at his partner, taking him for a threat.

He was ready to fire when Grant threw a solid punch to Artie's jaw, with all he had, before tackling the older agent to the carpeted floor.

Jim immediately rushed to help the President. He managed to disarm Artemus, then used the butt of the Colt to hit his partner's head with. "I'm sorry Artie," he said. Looking at Grant who was totally lost, he added, "It's a long story Mr. President. But Artemus was hypnotized. Under hypnosis, in deep trance, he's liable to do anything he was told to. We have to leave the train immediately before it's too late."

Suddenly they both heard the train whistle three times, signaling an imminent danger and felt it brutally slowing down.

Hoisting Artie's limp body over his shoulder Jim said, "Another train is coming, filled with nitroglycerin Sir. This train is going to be obliterated in a few moments!"

Grant paled. "Dear God! Let's get out of here."

They left the train in a hurry. They were joined shortly after by the driver and the mechanic and by three agents running out of the second car.

They ran at fast as possible as far as possible, and took cover behind a group of rocks as Torres's train, on its destructive path, hit the other train.

The explosion was so huge that the two trains were instantly vaporized in an immense ball of fire. The ground trembled.

The sound of the blast was overwhelming – Jim, Grant and the others covered their ears, watching a huge fireball shooting skywards.

That roar nearly deafened them. They looked at each other, relieved to be alive – barely noticing that noises were muffled now, and that their ears were ringing.

Pieces of metal thrown into the air by the blast of the explosion began raining down everywhere around a deep crater filled with black billowing smoke.

Looking at Grant Jim asked, "Are you alright Sir?"

Ulysses S. Grant nodded, rubbing his buzzing ears filled with a disagreeable continuous whistle. "Yes, I'm fine, thanks to you, Jim. You saved us all here." He frowned, completely puzzled. "What just happened? Before pointing his gun at me, Artemus told me that Torres was going to kill me; that he was here to be sure I would die, keeping me prisoner. He wasn't himself, of course. Was he drugged? Torres, is it that man who wanted to kill me in Alto Nuevo? I thought he was dead. If I remember your report, he drowned in a water hole."

Looking down at Artie, lying on the sandy ground, still unconscious, Jim said, "Torres is still alive Mr. President, and he still wants to kill you." He rubbed his ears too. They seemed to be filled with cotton wool balls and Grant's voice sounded a long way away. "He managed to hypnotize Artie, making him his puppet. When Artemus pointed that gun at you, he was obeying Torres's orders. He wasn't drugged but in a trance. He's not responsible for what he did, but Torres is. He wanted to kill you with a train filled with nitroglycerin, Sir. Artie's role was to keep you inside the train."

Grant took Artie's limp hand in his. "What about now?"

Suddenly a big cloud of dust appeared to the west – and preceding it was a group of Comanche. Jim smiled and said, "They're friends."

Grant raised his eyebrows in total surprise. "Comanche? I thought they were in a reservation in southwest Oklahoma. And friends?" he raised his hand and smiled. "I know, don't tell me, it's a long story."

WWW

 _Later in the Comanche settlement_

 _Under Red Crow's tepee_

Red Crow leaned over Artemus Gordon sitting on a blanket, his mouth hanging open slightly. He raised Artie's chin, meeting vacant eyes. It was clear he was in an altered state of consciousness, he realized. He touched his head. Then, after one minute, he moved back and turned towards the two other white men standing in his tepee, looking very worried. "Strong Bear's mind is lost," he declared.

Ulysses S. Grant's eyebrows arched. "Strong Bear?" He said, surprised.

Jim explained. "Roughly translated from Greek, Artemus means 'Strong Bear'. The Comanche call him like that. It's a nice name, don't you think, Sir?"

Grant nodded and looked at the Medicine Man. "Can you help him?"

Red Crow nodded too. "Yes, I can. Sometimes, after combat and a severe head injury, a brave's mind can be lost. He's not reacting anymore to the world around him. Through a ceremony another person can reach the lost mind and guide it back."

Taking a step forward Jim nodded. "I volunteer." He said.

Red Crow shook his head. "Not you, but you." And he placed a hand on the President's shoulder. "The two of you are close, like father and son."

Grant was very surprised. "How do you know?"

Red Crow smiled. "You look at Strong Bear like a father looks at his son when he's hurt. You have a father's love for this man."

Grant nodded. "Yes. I have, and he loves me like I was his own father. I'm going to help you."

Red Crow nodded too. "Good. Sit down beside Strong Bear and take his hands. Physical contact is needed for the ceremony."

President Grant complied. The Medicine Man placed a stiff rawhide bucket between the two men, and then pulled out a handful of dried herbs from a buckskin pouch. He started chanting prayers and ignited the dried herbs in the bucket with a flaming twig from the fire.

Immediately, acrid smoke rose between the two sitting men.

Still chanting prayers, Red Crow used a leather thong to bind Artemus and Grant's wrists, then moved back watching Grant blink rapidly.

The Medicine Man reached for some herbs out of one of his pouches and threw them into the bucket. The smoke thickened, smelling bad, acrid, intoxicating. "Think about Strong Bear. Think hard. See him in your mind. I'm going to create a passage between his mind and yours, so that you can reach him – break the forces imprisoning him with your deep love. That's the only way to free him. Then, when Strong Bear has taken control of himself, I will close the passage between your two minds. The mind-to-mind voyage will be over. Take deep breaths, don't be afraid."

Grant closed his eyes and coughed. He focused on Artie's limp hands, on his pulse precisely, as he couldn't see him thanks to the smoke, twining their fingers together.

He smiled, relaxing, feeling good – so good, happy, detached. He took a deep breath. Then his eyes went completely dull.

Frowning in concern Jim said, "You drugged the President?"

Red Crow placed one hand on Artie's head, the other one on the President's, his thumbs touching the temple of the two men. "Yes, the smoke will help him to relax, and will help me to enter a trance state. My prayers will ensure him a safe journey. Don't worry, he's in no danger." Closing his eyes, he re-started to chant prayers, but this time outside drums resounded.

WWW

 _Later_

Grant came back to himself slowly. The last vestiges of his mind-to-mind voyage faded, leaving behind only vague memories.

Red Crow nodded. "Everything is back to normal," he said. "The mind-to-mind voyage was a success." He smiled, stood and said, "I'm going to tell the good news to the leaders." Then he left the tepee.

Grant propped himself on his elbows and looked around him, both confused and disoriented. He blinked, vision swirling.

Crouching beside him Jim offered him his hand. "Are you alright Sir?" He asked, his brow furrowed in deep concern.

Grant nodded and took Jim's hand. He moved to a sitting position. "Yes, I'm alright." He ran a hand in his hair and looked down at Artemus who was rousing. "I brought Artemus with me." He frowned, trying to remember what happened but couldn't. "Everything's faded, like a last dream in the morning…"

Artemus opened his eyes, still trying to focus properly, and breathed, "Oh boy!" Then he rolled on his back and buried his face in his hands.

Kneeling beside Artemus, Jim placed his hand on his best friend's chest. "Artemus!"

Removing his hands from his face, Artie smiled. "Hiya, Jim." He glanced around him. "Back to Red Crow's tepee I see."

He suddenly moved into a sitting position and grabbed his partner's shoulders, suddenly realizing something and his eyes widened in shock and relief. "Jim? Jim! You're not dead! You're alive! But how?... I saw your body lying in a pool of blood!"

James returned Artemus's embrace, pulled away a few seconds later and then explained, "It wasn't me, Artie, but a double that Torres killed to break your mental barriers. You thought I was dead and you were so emotionally distressed that he managed to hypnotize you. He put you into a trance."

Grinning, Artie wrapped his arms around Jim's shoulders and chest in a bear hug. "I'm so happy you're not dead Jim!"

Ulysses S. Grant nodded. "And I'm happy to have brought you back, thanks to a Comanche ceremony – with the help of Red Crow. Glad to have you back, Artemus."

Blinking twice in total surprise, Artie said, "Mr. President, Sir? What are you doing here?"

Grant sighed. "It's a long story."

Artie frowned. "I had a strange dream… you were in my head, you got me out of… I don't know what, I don't remember. I was prisoner somehow… it was all black and empty around me." He blushed, embarrassed. "You were there with me, but not… like a ghost. You said my name a lot. You told me that you loved me… a lot. No, you weren't talking to me. I could hear your thoughts, but it was like you were talking to me. You wanted me to come back, to take control of my body, to… break Torres's influence, his mind control. And I did… Because of you." He looked at his hands. They were shaking. "Oh God! What happened?" he looked at his best friend – lost, distressed.

He could feel tears welling up.

Immediately Jim pulled Artie into an embrace and held him there. "It's a long story," he said. 'But it ends well, that's the only thing that counts. You're okay."

Hugging Jim tightly, Artie cried softly, almost silently against the other man's shoulder, physically and emotionally exhausted.

Jim's hand came up to rest on Artie's head, and the younger man stroked the dark tousled hair. "I'm here Artie, I'm alright."

Eventually Artie lifted his head from Jim's soaked shoulder and looked up into the other man's face, a man he loved like he was his own brother. "That was horrible. I thought I had lost you."

Smiling Jim laid a gentle hand on the side of Artie's face in a brotherly affection. "I know. That was cruel. It's okay, it's over and it's a long story."

WWW

 _Later, beside a fire in the middle of the settlement_

Sitting cross-legged, Ulysses S. Grant licked his greasy fingers. "That was delicious," he said, placing his empty rawhide bowl at his feet, looking at Yellow Arrow. "I was hungry, thank you. It's the first time I've eaten a stew of snake and lizard." He smiled and added, "And thank you too for your generous hospitality." He looked up at the three agents standing behind him and said, "I'm not in any danger, gentlemen. Perhaps you could do something to keep busy… like tending the horses Yellow Arrow offered us."

Concerned like his comrades, the red-haired agent frowned. "With all due respect Sir, they're…"

Nodding, Grant interrupted the other man, "Indians, I know. But I'm safe – we all are. Don't worry. They're good Indians."

The three men left reluctantly, heading towards the horses.

The old Comanche leader put a bit of tobacco into the bowl of his pipe and pressed it down with his fingers. He took a flaming twig from the fire and lit his pipe, and soon the whole bowl gleamed orange-red. Soon puffs of smoke gathered around Yellow Arrow's head, and he blew a smoke ring skyward, satisfied. He continued to puff on his pipe, and then removed it from his mouth to add, "You are the Chief of all White People. We respect Chiefs, they are honored guests. We Comanche are very hospitable people. We love to have visitors and to prepare meals whenever a visitor arrives in camp." He placed a hand on Red Crow's shoulder sitting beside him, to his right. "The Medicine Man told me that Strong Bear is like a son to you, is family."

Grant nodded. "That's right."

The old man nodded. "Then as Strong Bear is highly respected in my band, you are highly respected too, Chief Grant."

Ulysses S. Grant bowed his head. "Thank you."

Old Yellow Arrow took a puff from his pipe and handed it to Grant, who took it and immediately took a puff. "You must be very proud of Strong Bear and honored to have him at your side? He's a great warrior, marked by the Sacred Kwihnai."

Grant glanced at Artemus, sitting cross-legged beside another fire, a little further off. He was surrounded by all the Comanche children, boys and girls of all ages, telling them a story.

They were fascinated.

The President nodded. "Yes, I am."

Silver Cloud nodded. "The children adopted Strong Bear," he said. Then he smiled when Artemus moved onto his knees and tousled his hair. He opened his eyes wide and changed his fingers into sharp claws - imitating an angry bear, complete with a low growl from the back of his throat - and caught a little girl in his arms, pretending to devour her. She shrieked and struggled. Immediately all the others erupted into a chorus of giggles and jumped on the pretend bear to help her, letting out joyful noises. Soon Artie disappeared under a cluster of ten children.

Grant grinned. "Yes, I am," he finally responded. He turned towards Jim sitting beside him. "Perhaps you could rescue your partner from the children? We have much to discuss."

Smiling too, Jim nodded. "Yes Sir."

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 _Later at night, in Piedra Blanca – full moon_

Dressed again in Comanche clothes: a breechcloth and loose-fitting deerskin leggings, and moccasins, but naked from waist up (painted like his face with black stripes as a camouflage), Artemus moved silently behind Jim following him on top of the mountain.

Stopping next to the opening overlooking his former cell, Jim said, "I hope the door will be open. Otherwise we have to find another way in." He took the long rope he was carrying around his shoulder and tied one extremity to a rock.

Dropping the other end inside the cell through the opening Artie said, "It's too bad I don't have my mini bombs with me."

Crouching beside his partner Jim nodded. "I know." He glanced at his partner and said. "With your Indian wig you could pass for a Comanche."

Smiling Artie nodded. "You think? Silver Cloud painted me. He used black paint because black is the color used for war. A battle will take place soon. And also to camouflage my white skin."

Jim chuckled. "You look like a two-legged zebra too – with sunburns." His smile vanished. He sighed, feeling ill at ease. "You know I'd feel better if the President had stayed in the Comanche settlement."

Artie nodded. "Me too, but he has never led an attack… with Comanche at his side. He didn't want to miss that opportunity. Besides, we're not saying 'no' to the President."

Jim nodded in his turn. "First thing first – destroy the electrical system so that the Comanche can enter the facility. Then, free the prisoners and find rifles. Torres and Loveless's soldiers will be caught in crossfire."

Holding the rope, Artie nodded. "You do that, I'm going to find Torres and Loveless." Then he started lowering himself into the cell below.

WWW

It was easy for the two agents to move inside the underground facility – it was the middle of the night and only a few guards were on duty.

It took twenty minutes for Jim to find the general electrical system room. It wasn't guarded. The huge devices were buzzing like millions of bees.

He moved towards the levers and lowered them on by one. The loud buzzing sound progressively diminished, then it disappeared.

He was ready to leave the big room when he found two guards in his way, pointing their rifles to him. He raised his hands.

Suddenly warning bells began to ring – distracting the guards. Jim seized this opportunity to punch the two men in their faces, knocking them out.

He sighed. "Now the whole base is going to be on alert." He rapidly removed one of the guards' uniforms, then exchanged it for his jumpsuit.

He heard gunshots which confirmed that the Comanche were attacking.

WWW

 _In the meantime_

Holding a Colt, Artemus entered the vast living room, brightly lit with dozens of chandeliers. He couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle. "You should have a bow and arrows dressed like that, old man, instead of a revolver" he whispered.

He stopped next to the table where the lamp Torres had used to hypnotize him was sitting, checking himself from breaking it.

He froze and stiffened when the heard the distinctive 'click' of a gun's hammer right by his head. He turned around, slowly and met Torres's eyes.

The older man was pointing a gun at him. He was furious. "Torres, on behalf of the President of the United States, you're under arrest."

Torres chuckled softly. "Coming from a man who looks like an Indian – save the hair and eagle feather, I find it amusing."

Artie's face became like marble. "I'm not joking."

Hearing a new round of gunshots resounding, Torres growled. "I should have killed you," he said. "Dr. Loveless told me that you were dangerous. I underestimated you."

Smiling, Artie nodded. "But you didn't listen to him. You wanted to have your revenge. I cheated you, and your pride has been wounded. You managed to hypnotize me, I was your puppet… fortunately I was delivered from your influence."

Curious, Torres asked, "How?"

Still pointing his own firearm at Torres, Artemus said, "Let's say that I had some precious help from people who love me. You're under attack by the Comanche. Soon Jim will free the prisoners, they will be armed and Loveless's personal army will be captured – or killed. By the way, President Grant is alright – but his train is not. It exploded. Grant's not happy with that."

Dark eyes fill with cruel amusement, Torres smiled and lowered his gun. "You are not delivered of my 'influence' as you call it, Mr. Gordon." Using his other hand he fished a small music box from his pocket of leather jacket and opened it.

His instinct signaling danger, Artie stiffened and swallowed.

A simple melody started – and immediately Artemus froze, his chocolate eyes going vacant again. His muscles relaxed and his eyes slid closed. He was swaying very slightly.

His head dropped down, his chin resting against his chest while Torres smirked.

Torres commanded, "Open your eyes, but remain deep in trance." Artie complied, now utterly still – eyes out of focus. "Your mind is mine, again. I knew that somehow you might exit your state of trance, so I gave you a post-hypnotic command after I hypnotized you, in order to put you back into that state if I had to. I programmed you to react to a certain thing… that music, I composed myself – and you did." He smiled broadly. "You're mine again, Mr. Gordon. Say it! Say that you're mine."

Using a toneless voice, slightly slurred, Artemus said, "I'm yours."

Torres smiled, looking at him in satisfaction.

Dressed in a robe and flanked by two guards, Loveless entered the room. "We're being attacked! Indians! They are everywhere!" He frowned seeing the agent. "Gordon! He led them here!"

Looking down at Loveless, Torres said, "I know that we're under attack, Doctor, and we're going to lose that battle. But the troops will hold the Comanche until we leave."

Loveless was surprised. "Leave? Leave? But what about all that gold?" He frowned. "I don't want to leave without a single gold bar!"

Torres nodded. "I have a train ready to depart, Doctor, filled with all the stolen gold. It wasn't my intention to leave it here. Get ready. We'll leave shortly." Then he focused his eyes onto Artie's and ordered, "Kill James West and then kill yourself. Don't let anyone stop you."

Once again hypnotized, Artemus, holding his revolver, headed towards the door, nothing else existed but his mission.

Tbc.


	5. Act Four

**THE NIGHT OF THE COMANCHE MOON**

 **By Andamogirl**

WWW

 **ACT FOUR**

Silver Cloud was the first to see that something was wrong. Artemus looked 'elsewhere' again, his eyes devoid of life.

He touched Jim's arm and said, "Strong Bear is not himself!"

Spinning round, Jim saw his partner aim at him, staring, and what followed after was all reflex and instinct. In a split second he fired before the other man could. Artemus's gun flew in the air. Artie didn't even flinch when blood poured from his injured hand.

Gun-less, he pulled his knife free from his belt and leapt on Jim. But Silver Cloud intercepted him and pushed him backward. "Stop! He is your friend!" he said.

Holstering his Colt, Jim shook his head. "There's no use Silver Cloud, he's not going to stop. He has received orders to kill me, and probably to kill himself after that. You're not going to stop him like that. Find Torres – he's a tall man with metal limbs, and Loveless, he's a little man and bring them here – alive. They're probably trying to escape. Begin with the place the trains are stationed."

Silver Cloud gestured to six of his braves. "I will." Then the chief of the Comanche warriors left the vast hall where the weapons were piled.

His face still blank, Artie lunged forward and sliced at Jim's left forearm, cutting through the sleeve of his blue jumpsuit. They circled each other, and then Jim took the lead. Moving forward, he swung at Artie's face; hitting his partner hard with a powerful blow to the mouth, sending him down to the ground. Artemus scrambled back to his feet just before Jim threw another punch, in his ribs this time. He cringed when he heard a crack – but Artie didn't seem to notice.

He was in trance, insensible to pain.

The older man stabbed downward with the knife once again, licking absently at the blood on his lower lip, and the younger agent stepped back in a flash to avoid it.

Side-stepping swiftly a sweep intended to cut him in two, Jim grabbed his partner's wrist and punched Artie in the nose. His nose bleeding, Artemus reeled back, which gave James time to yank the knife out of his partner's hand.

Disarmed, Artie moved towards Jim, clenching and unclenching his fist, and then he sprang forward at his target, his fist raised. Jim stepped sideways, grabbed his best friend by the arm, pulling him off balance, and swung him into the wall. Artie fell heavily onto his side.

He jumped on Artie and rolled him onto his back, pinning him down then, sitting on his thighs, pressing his shoulders to the floor with his left forearm and holding his wrists down in an iron grip with his right hand.

Silver Cloud entered the room, Torres following him, flanked by two warriors manhandling him. Two other braves were escorting Loveless.

Looking up at Torres, Jim felt anger boiling inside him, barely containing it. He wanted to punch Torres in the face. No one hurt Artie! He thought protectively. He growled low in his throat and said, "De-hypnotize Artemus, otherwise my friend here will take great pleasure in scalping you!"

Torres gasped when his hair was gripped hard, and his head wrenched back. Silver Cloud pulled his knife out of his sheath hanging at his belt, a cruel smile appearing on his lips.

Torres paled. "You wouldn't!"

Jim's eyes flashed as he glared at Torres, "Try me. I'll do anything necessary to help my partner. He's everything to me, Eve-ry-thing." Artie was bucking from side to side under him.

Torres sighed in defeat and said, "Very well. Mr. Gordon, listen to me, focus on my voice. Nothing matters except it."

Silver Cloud moved back.

Immediately Artemus, who was kicking and wriggling, went completely still, listening to Torres's voice. "At three, you will exit that deep trance state and become your old self again. One…two…three..."

At three Artemus went limp like a puppet with severed strings. Then his head jerked and he blinked back into awareness. He blinked and looked around in confusion and disorientation. His brow furrowed, he asked, "Jim? Why are you straddling me and pinning me down?"

Smiling in relief, Jim moved out from Artie's body. "Not pinning you anymore." He slipped an arm beneath Artie's and eased him up to a sitting position.

Artemus looked up at Torres, and suddenly remembered what happened – all of it. The blood drained from his face. "He has a music box in his pocket! He used it to hypnotize me again, break it!"

Silver Cloud placed his blade on the bob of Torres's throat. "Do it!"

Pulling the tiny music box out of the pocket of his black leather jacket, Torres dropped it to the ground and crushed it under his foot.

Relieved, Artie winced as his ribs hurt. He touched his aching lips, found the lower one split and saw blood on his fingertips. "Did you hit me?" Artie frowned in concern as he spotted blood welling between his partner's fingers. "I hurt you! Oh god! I'm sorry!"

Standing up, Jim dismissed Artie's apologies with a wave of his hand. "That's nothing, just a cut, don't worry. You didn't hurt me Artie, but Torres did. You were obeying his orders. And I hurt you too, I'm sorry."

Taking Jim's offered hand, Artemus pushed himself upwards, to his feet. He swayed a little and his partner caught his elbow. "Thanks, Jim." He planted himself in front of Torres and said, "On behalf of the President of the United States, you're under arrest." Then he moved towards Loveless, framed between two Comanche holding rifles pointed at him. "You too Doctor. Next stop: the prison."

Suddenly a dozen ex-prisoners holding guns entered the room. An older man saluted and said, "Mr. West, Mr. Gordon, I'm Major Davenport, 19th Cavalry, Sirs. President Grant asked me to escort the prisoners to the train he commandeered, and he'd like to see you, as soon as possible." He gestured and a soldier took a step forward holding a pile of clothes and two gun belts and guns. "We found your clothes and gun-belts while recovering our uniforms and weapons."

Jim smiled, happy to retrieve his beloved gun. "Thank you, Major." And Artie will be happy to have his gun back too, he thought.

Major Davenport added, "Your horses have been settled in the baggage car of the President's train, Sirs. I thought you would like to know."

Jim nodded. "That's perfect, thank you Major."

WWW

Silver Cloud raised his hand. "It is time to leave, our roads are separating here," he said. He grabbed Artie's shoulders and hugged him. He pulled back and added, "I am going to miss you, Strong Bear. You would make a good Comanche. You will be always welcomed in my band."

Both pleased and proud, Artie bowed. "Thank you. It's an honor and a privilege to be your friend Silver Cloud. Safe travels. And thank you very much for your help."

Silver Cloud smiled. "That was a pleasure." He frowned suddenly uneasy. "Do you think the President is going to send the army to bring us to the reservation?"

Artie shrugged. "I don't know, but I will defend you. You helped us a lot – and the President knows that. He's a good man."

Silver Cloud nodded. "I trust you my friend." He grinned mischievously. "We are taking the horses with us. The people here will not need them anymore."

The horse was of the utmost value to the Comanche. They used horses for warfare. They were the first thing the Comanche stole during raids; often raids were conducted specifically to capture horses, Artie remembered. He nodded and smiled. "They're yours. I'd like to know your people better Silver Cloud – learn everything Comanche," he said.

The Comanche warrior nodded. "Next time you visit us, you will. This I promise." He pressed Artie's shoulder with affection and he left, followed by his warriors.

Sighing, Artie wiped a hand over his bloodshot and tired eyes. He was barely able to keep his eyes open. The draining adrenaline was taking its toll. "After what happened, I could use a nap… a long one, like to next week," he said before hiding a yawn behind his hand.

Patting his best friend's shoulder Jim said, "What? That was just a walk in the park. Tsk! Tsk! Tsk! You're getting old Artie."

Artemus was too tired to glare at James.

But when he swayed, Jim jumped to his side and put a hand under his elbow. "Come on Artie; let's find you a place to sleep." Artie leaned into Jim and Jim wrapped an arm around his best friend's waist. "Let's get out of here. You're about to drop."

Dead tired, Artie nodded, blinking against his weariness and fighting to stay awake. "Because, my boy, even the ground seems comfy to me…"

WWW

 _Later in Grant's train, on its way to San Antonio_

Holding his black coat, Ulysses S. Grant placed it on Artemus's sleeping form carefully. The older agent, hollow eyed and worn out, was curled up uncomfortably into a ball on one of the benches of the train, head resting on his folded arm.

He placed then a paternal hand on Artie's shoulder. "It's too bad this train has no bunks. He could have used one, and us another. The last events have exhausted him," he said to Jim standing behind him. "It's going to take long hours before reaching San Antonio, hopefully he'll sleep during that time."

Jim nodded and smiled reassuringly. "That wasn't easy for him, Sir. But you know him, he's strong and healthy; he should feel fine in no time."

Grant sat on the bench opposite. "It's too bad that a good portion of the railroad track leading to El Paso was destroyed along with my train, the Wanderer is stationed there."

Sitting on another bench, Jim nodded. "It's going to take weeks to repair it, Sir. The Wanderer will be in Saint Louis before us."

Grant nodded too. "But we won't go there in that train. Victor Bakersfield, the Governor of Texas, has a nice personal train to travel across his vast state of Texas, almost like the Wanderer, but with fewer weapons and no lab or rolling cell. He'll be more than happy to lend me his train. He'll be waiting for us in San Antonio – with all the population of the town. Speaking of rolling cell… there's none here. Are Torres and Loveless under close surveillance?"

Glancing at Artie, who was mumbling in his sleep, Jim nodded. "They are in the second car, Sir, shackled to the bench. Four armed soldiers are posted there. They won't escape. As for the other prisoners, they are in the second train following us, Sir. Soldiers are guarding them. The third train is loaded with all the gold, and what's left of the bank notes and the weapons. That train is heavily guarded too."

The president nodded. "Good, you should take a nap too Jim. You need to rest." Seeing that Jim was frowning in concern and was ready to say no, he added, "Don't worry, there are two soldiers stationed at both ends of the car. I'm safe."

Moving against the train's side, Jim glanced outside through the window and yawned seeing the first light of the dawn on the horizon. He put his feet up on the bench opposite and closed his arms on his chest. Exhausted and lulled by the monotonous clickety-clack of the train, he fell asleep the moment he closed his eyes.

WWW

 _Much later_

The first train was approaching San Antonio when one of the soldiers guarding the prisoners un-holstered his gun. He pointed it at Loveless.

The man smiled. "Time to leave…" he said, before whirling around. He fired at his three companions, killing them all. They crumpled to the floor.

But there was no noise or almost none.

Miguelito Loveless would have clapped his hands for joy if he hadn't been restrained with shackles. "Remove these things from me Nelson. My gun noise suppressor worked perfectly!"

Nelson, Loveless's henchman, grabbed the key from one of the dead soldier's belts and released Loveless. "Let's get out of here boss!"

Smiling, Torres stood from his seat, still restrained by heavy and unbreakable iron shackles. "I go with you. Release me!"

Miguelito Loveless shook his head. "You're staying. End of our collaboration. When I run away, I run away alone – I mean with my men only. Others could slow down me and make me get caught - again. Jim West put me in prison once; he won't send me behind bars again."

Growling angrily, Torres tried to break his chains – in vain.

Loveless headed towards the door, Nelson in toe. They waited for the train to stop at the station, and they left the platform at top speed. They quickly disappeared into the immense crowd of the curious gathered there – waiting to see President Grant.

WWW

 _Later in the second car_

Saying that Grant was furious was an understatement. Loveless had escaped!

He looked down at the dead bodies of the three soldiers and sighed. "He had an accomplice amongst the guards, that's the only explanation."

Feeling guilty, Jim said, "Yes, Sir. I'm sorry." He frowned. "There's something I don't understand: no one heard the gunshots."

Grant looked at his agent. "It's not your fault, Jim. You couldn't know that. They're probably long gone by now, but I sent patrols after them – just in case. As for the gunshots… Well, I have no explanation." He glanced at Torres entering an armored police carriage. "At least Torres didn't escape. He's going to spend his first night in prison here, before his transfer to Washington for his trial in two weeks."

Still sheepish, Jim nodded. "Artie and I will escort him there personally. Speaking of the devil…" He looked around him and through the window saw his partner in discussion with the Governor. He noticed that Bakersfield was looking over his partner from head to toe, surprised to see him wearing Comanche clothes. Artemus had fallen asleep immediately after arriving on the train, and unlike Jim had not changed clothes.

Grant saw that too and said, "I'd like to get on the Governor's train immediately and leave as soon as possible to go back to Washington, but it would not be very polite. He certainly has planned a reception in my honor - and I don't like it – never had, never will. But it comes with my function. I've always found receptions boring. You know me, I am a man of action, doing dozens of things at the same time, and spending – no wasting – precious hours talking about everything and nothing is totally futile." He chuckled, noticing his other agent talking to a lovely red-haired young woman, all smiles, dressed in a sumptuous green dress. She was touching Artemus beaded strand of hair. "Hmm… at least Artemus won't find that reception boring."

Jim smiled. "It's Helena Bakersfield, Sir, the Governor's daughter. She's an old friend of Artemus. They met in the Capital three years ago, before his father was nominated Governor of Texas. They dated for a while… but it didn't last. I don't know why. They parted very good friends."

Grant nodded. "If one day, I need him at my side in the White House, for some reason, I'm sure there will be a steady influx of lovely young women into Washington."

WWW

 _Later, in the best hotel of San Antonio_

Helena Bakersfield pouted adoringly. "Please Artemus – staying here is no fun." She kissed Artie's lips playfully and added, "My friends would love to know you, so I told them about you..." She glanced at Grant standing two steps behind the agent and whispered, "He's safe here. You don't have to stay with him. Come with me, we're going to have fun…"

Inflexible, Artemus shook his head. "No, Helena, I'm sorry. My duty first."

Miss Bakersfield sighed, disappointed. "Too bad…" She kissed Artemus again, practically devouring his lips this time, and then she parted and smiled. "Stay with your President. See you later – or not."

Holding a glass of Champagne, President Ulysses S. Grant joined Artemus, but didn't make any comment on what had happened. He knew that nothing in the world could divert Artemus of his duty. But very curious, he couldn't help but ask, "What happened? But you can refuse to tell me."

Artie smiled. "I have never refused you anything Sir. She found someone else, Sir. She left me, that's simple. He was younger, had a fortune, his parents were from the English nobility. I couldn't compete. I'll never be able to hate a woman, even if she hurt me. I love them too much. That's why we parted good friends. But as she kissed me, I suppose she's not with him anymore."

Grant glanced around him – keeping a smiling face, although he was bored beyond belief. At least the journalists had decided to move towards the buffet, letting him breathe, he mused.

He suddenly spotted James West next to the buffet, flirting openly with a lovely blond woman wearing a red dress, worn with a matching necklace and earrings in ruby.

He glanced at Artemus Gordon standing at his side, almost at attention, scanning the people in the vast room to detect any potential threat. He had checked out the buildings and personnel – twice - but was still on his guard anyway. Something unexpected could happen, he reflected.

He noticed a light bump at the other man's side, under his light gray jacket – where his gun was discreetly holstered. His agent was dressed in newly purchased clothes - but had kept his beaded bracelet and the beaded strand of hair on top of his head.

Guessing the President's thoughts, Artie said, "I will remove them later, Sir. Once alone in my lab. It means a lot to me."

Grant nodded. "Of course." He sighed when he saw a man dressed in black, holding a notebook and a pencil head his way. "Another Journalist."

Immediately, Artemus intercepted the other man. "The President is not going to give any other interview." He said in a firm tone.

Sensing that he couldn't approach Grant, the journalist said, "My name is Todd Harper, of the San Antonio Herald. Perhaps I could interview you instead, Mr. Gordon? I heard what happened from my colleagues on other newspapers… and the part with Comanche is really fascinating. But I'm still surprised that these savages…" He suddenly gasped and recoiled when Artemus Gordon grabbed the lapel of his jacket; his eyes darkening with anger.

Entering Harper's personal space threateningly, Artie let out an irritated growl. "Don't call them 'savages'! They're not savages. They have a different culture from ours, yes, a different lifestyle from ours, yes, but that's not why people have to call them 'savages'. They are good people, honorable people." He took a step back, his fists clenching and unclenching. "You can write it in your newspaper."

Harper sniggered. "You love them all okay, but a squaw in particular perhaps? The one who did that nice beaded hair lock for example?"

Seeing red, Artemus punched the other man square on the nose sending him flying backward before he knew what he was doing. Harper crumpled against a (fortunately) empty table, landing in a heap on the floor in a shower of glasses of Champagne, plates containing cakes and silverware, with head slumped sideways, blood pouring from his broken nose. Knocked out cold.

Then Artemus Gordon noticed his surroundings. All the people in the room had fallen silent and had stopped what they were doing and were watching him.

He spotted Jim, arm in arm with the blond woman in the red dress, smiling broadly.

Proud of him.

He abruptly calmed down (feeling a lot better) and took his place back at Grant's side. "He said some disrespectful things to me, Sir." He explained touching his bracelet unconsciously.

Grant knew then who the journalist had insulted: the Comanche, with whom he had become a friend. "He won't do that again."

Looking at Grant sheepishly, Artie said, "I'm sorry Mr. President. I lost my cool. I shouldn't have. It won't happen again."

The President hid a smile. "You're sometimes a bit impetuous, I know. At least, no journalist is going to bother me again… with such a sturdy bodyguard." He took a sip of Champagne. "But I have to take some action against you for losing your cool. That was not professional." His face hardened but the tone was mocking.

Artie nodded impassible. "Yes Sir."

People re-started what they were doing.

Todd Harper left, hoisted over the shoulder of one of his friends.

Governor Bakersfield headed towards his prestigious guest, looking concerned. "Are you alright Mr. President?" he asked.

Grant seized the opportunity. "I'm a bit tired actually. Those last adventures exhausted me. Is your train ready for me and my men, Governor?"

Bakersfield nodded. "Yes Sir."

President Grant placed his glass of Champagne on the nearby table and smiling he offered his hand to the politician. "Thank you very much for your hospitality, Governor, and for your train. I'll send it back to you as soon as possible."

Bakersfield smiled. "Keep it as long as you need Mr. President."

WWW

 _Later on board the Governor's train, on its way to Saint Louis_

Sitting at the table of the galley, Artemus was peeling apples to make a French tarte Tatin for the President, one of his favorite desserts, when the door opened and Jim entered. "I heard that the President has punished you for decking that journalist."

Peeling a last apple, Artie nodded. "Yes he confined me here 'til we reach Saint Louis, and asked me to prepare him a tarte Tatin, to begin my punishment."

Sitting on a stool beside his partner, Jim placed a comforting hand on Artie's shoulder. The older man had taken off his jacket, loosened his cravat and pulled up his sleeves. "That's terrible. You in a galley, your favorite place next to your lab, making dessert, one of your favorite cooking occupations - He was hard on you," he said. Then he gave him a wicked smile.

Smiling, Artemus placed the pieces of apple into a large bowl. "Yes, you're right. My hand still hurts. I can barely hold anything… Holding that knife is torture." He got up, approached the hot stove, and placed a big frying pan on it. "That man deserved that punch, Jim. He insulted the Comanche and me. I don't regret it." He coated the frying pan with butter, poured sprinkled sugar into it and added more butter on top. Grant liked his tarte Tatin with a lot of caramel.

Taking a quarter of an apple from the bowl, Jim nodded. "You hit pretty hard when you're angry. I loved that journalist flight-gliding. You knocked him out with just one punch."

Frowning, upset, Artie grabbed the piece of apple before it was too late and put it back into the bowl. "Don't eat that! I have just enough apples to make the tarte Tatin." He waited for the caramel to form in the frying pan and when it was golden he placed the apple quarters inside, then using a wooden spoon he let them cook slowly and after that gently coated them with the caramel. "If the President doesn't like it, I could be fired from the Treasury Department in Washington, transferred back to regular Army and be posted to a remote fort on the border with Canada."

Jim chuckled. "You're exaggerating, Artie."

He shook his head. "No I'm not, it has to be perfect!"

When the apples were cooked to perfection he gently placed them in a pie dish and then took dough waiting on a large plate.

Standing, Jim took the pot of fresh coffee sitting on the countertop, a cup and poured himself a full cup of the delicious beverage. "You want it to be perfect, like all that you do. Grant loves your cuisine so much that he could eat that tarte Tatin even if it was ugly and burnt."

Sipping his coffee, he observed Artemus place the dough on the caramelized apples and, using the handle of a soup spoon, tuck the edges of the dough between the mold and apples.

Looking at his best friend, Artie grinned. "You're right, and yes, I was exaggerating." He placed the almost done tarte Tatin in the oven of the stove. "Okay, it will be ready in 30 minutes, all golden and crisp. I prepared cookies for us with walnuts and hazelnuts."

He opened a terracotta jar and fished one from inside. He gave it to Jim then took another cookie for himself. "29 minutes and 30 seconds left."

Smiling, Jim took a deck of cards from the inside pocket of his brand new jacket. "Found it in the sideboard of the parlor car. Want to play some poker to pass the time?"

Artie nodded. "That's a good idea. I still have walnuts and hazelnuts we can use instead of chips."

Jim pulled two cigars out of his other pocket. "With the compliments of the Governor – found them in a drawer of the sideboard." Then he pulled out a box of matches from the same inner pocket. "What's poker without a good cigar?" he said.

Smiling, Artie took one and brought it to his nose, inhaling the spicy and heavy scent of tobacco. "Thank you. Mmm… smells good."

The two men brought the cigars to their lips and Jim lit Artie's before his. They inhaled, holding the smoke in their mouths for a moment, and then blew it out.

Picking up a jar containing walnuts and hazelnuts from the countertop, Artie moved towards the table; he rapidly cleared it of the things on it. "Where's the President?"

Sitting on a chair, Jim put the deck of cards on the table. "He's in the smoking parlor – this train has a smoking parlor – reading various newspapers." He shuffled the cards before dealing a hand to his partner and then to himself.

Puffing on his cigar Artemus picked up the cards and kept his face neutral, but he was internally very pleased with the cards he got.

Jim kept a poker face too, studying his cards, as he formed perfect blueish smoke rings that spiraled towards the roof of the galley.

Suddenly the door opened and Ulysses S. Grant appeared. "Or not," Jim said.

The two agents immediately removed their cigars from their mouths and stood to attention.

Grant smiled. "At ease, gentlemen." He pulled up a chair to the table and sat down. "May I join you? I haven't played poker for… too long."

Smiling, Jim said. "With pleasure, Sir." Then, cigar firm between his teeth he dealt a hand to the President of the United States.

Tbc.


	6. Tag

**THE NIGHT OF THE COMANCHE MOON**

 **By Andamogirl**

WWW

 **TAG**

 _Washington DC a week later_

 _The Wanderer_

Sitting in front of the mirror of his sideboard, Artemus looked at his reflection, touching his jaw. The redness of his skin had given way to a deep tan. "You look a lot better like this than before, old man." He said, and then he took a pair of scissors and brought it to his beaded lock of hair.

Leaning against the doorjamb of his partner's sleeping compartment Jim said, "I wouldn't do that if I were you. I like you like that – it gives you something… _wild_."

Looking up at his best friend, Artemus nodded. "This would pass unnoticed in the _Wild West_ \- but not in the towns or cities where we'll be going."

Entering his partner's private room, Jim moved towards his best friend and stopped beside him. "You're afraid to be eccentric?"

Artie chuckled. "I think that after spending a week in Washington sporting that scalp lock, my reputation as an eccentric is made already."

Jim grinned. "The ladies loved it. It was 'exotic'. They loved to touch it while you were telling our adventures with the Comanche…"

Lowering his hand, Artie smirked. "You're just jealous."

Placing his hand on Artie's shoulder, Jim said, "I'm not. You know that I don't know what jealousy is, and you don't either. Seriously, keep it – at least until we reach San Antonio. Jeremy will be there when we arrive. He'll replace you at my side."

Blinking in surprise Artie said, "Replace me at your side? Why?"

Jim smiled. "The President has given you a two weeks leave Artemus – surprise! You need rest after what you went through. That was quite a series of ordeals. He asked me to tell you the good news. You'll have time to visit Silver Cloud at the Comanche settlement… in that time Jeremy and I, we escort Torres to Washington, and come back to San Antonio. You could tell Yellow Arrow that the President … 'forgot' where the Comanche settlement is. They can live in peace where they are. Nobody will force them to relocate to the reservation. So… don't cut that beaded lock of hair. Keep it … and maybe Red Crow's daughters will make new ones. And you could tell stories to the children and play with them too – and learn everything Comanche."

Standing, Artie hugged Jim and broke away a couple of seconds later. He was beaming. "Thank you for that good news… I'm going to send a telegram to the President to thank him, then I'll buy presents for the children and for Silver Cloud, Yellow Arrow and the other leaders." He looked at his reflection in the mirror. "You know, beading locks of my hair will work better if I had longer hair…"

Jim nodded. "Then, you have two choices, wear a wig – and you have one with two braids, or create a chemical potion to make hair grow rapidly."

Lifting his eyebrows, Artemus said, "That's a good idea! I actually worked on a formula to prevent hair loss ... I've begun to loose hair at the back of the head..."

WWW

 _A week later +_

 _Comanche settlement_

Dusty, thirsty and tired after hours in the saddle, Artemus Gordon dismounted. He gently tapped the horse's neck and said, "Good boy." The gelding neighed and looked in the direction of the Comanche horses – and mares especially - neighing too to welcome him. "You have some friends there I see…" Smiling he removed the bridles, the saddle-bags, the saddle and finally the saddle blanket, setting them in a pile on the ground. Then, finally he slapped the rump of his beloved quarter-horse "Go!"

Chestnut nuzzled Artie's hair with affection, to thank him, and then he trotted towards his four legged and spotted friends, tail raised, happy.

Silver Cloud moved towards Artemus, all the children following him, visibly exited to see Artie again. "It is good to see you again, Strong Bear," he said before smiling.

Smiling too, Artie nodded. "It's good to see you too Silver Cloud."

The two men hugged and then parted.

Silver Cloud asked, "You are staying long?"

The children immediately wrapped themselves around Artemus, and he put the youngest one, a little girl, on top of his shoulders. She squealed with delight and grabbed Artie's hair to hang on to it. "Two weeks, if of course I can stay."

The Comanche grinned. "You are always welcome here. And the children are very happy to see you again," he observed.

He gestured towards his tepee and they headed there. Once in front of the opening, Silver Cloud looked down at the children and told them something in Comanche and they left reluctantly.

Artie lowered the little one to the ground and, like the other children, she ran towards her friends regrouped a little further away.

Once they were inside the tepee, a lovely Indian woman joined the two men, holding clothes and a pair of moccasins. She sat them on the ground – and blushing, she smiled to Artemus, who charmed, smiled back – and then she left.

Silver Cloud nodded. "Her name is huutsuu oha'ekapitu, that means Yellow Bird. I will introduce you to her later. Now, my friend, take off your clothes! – all of them."

Blinking twice in surprise, Artemus asked, "Why?"

Silver Cloud placed a hand on Artie's shoulder. "You wanted to know my people better, learn everything Comanche, then it starts with proper clothes."

THE END


End file.
